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kayjayjwrites · 2 months

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Like Bugs in a Rug: Chapter One

Summary: Azriel Shadowsinger, mysterious pretty boy extraordinaire himself, was head over heels in love with you for years. Everyone in the room could see it, except for you of course. A series of connected one-shots.

Chapter Word Count: 6,350

Chapter Content Warnings: fluff, some cursing, one bed trope, awkward but wholesome communication, AFAB Reader, Reader (You), some details about Reader's appearance but overall vague, canon plot spoilers as this is canon compliant-ish, reader low key being thirsty for Azzie

Note: Hello! Welcome to my first fic in like 10 years! This idea came about when I was having a hard time falling back asleep. I sometimes draft fanfiction when i'm trying to sleep. I don't often remember the plots come morning, but the memory of this one remained intact enough for me to jot down. I’m thinking this update is gonna be the longest chapter because it's both prologue and the first chapter, but I have terrible self control with word count limits. So I guess we’ll see what the next chapters bring, but they may be shorter!

Enjoy me 2am fugue state musings, there are likely typos~

It was all worth it. The decades of patience and silent suffering. The centuries of loneliness paying off just as you lost hope of ever leaving The Court of Nightmares. You and your father, Kier, expected a typical visit from the Inner Circle. The High Lord would threaten your father to keep him in line, you’d go unnoticed in the back of the throne room monitoring the interaction. Just like every other time they visited.

Except, the High Lord and his Inner Circle asked about you like you were the reason behind their visit. You had clocked the visit as odd as soon as only Rhysand, Feyre, and Mor arrived. The absence of both The General & Shadowsinger at the same time a rarity. Despite being related to Rhysand and Mor, you didn’t think they knew your name, so when they asked Kier about you, by name, your heart damn near fell out of your ass.

They wanted you to leave Hewn City to work with them. A Courtier of the Night Court, working alongside Nesta, Lady Death herself, of all people. They wanted you to start immediately now that the war with Hybern was over. Relations between Courts were strained, and upon learning of your talent, the High Lord deemed it a waste for you to be hidden away down here. He and the Inner Circle believed you did not belong in The Court of Nightmares. To anyone else, having the High Lord speak so highly of your child would have been an honor.

It was the most furious you’d ever seen Kier. Which was saying something. His emotions grew volatile in a blink of an eye, outraged by the absolute gall of the High Lord. How dare he come to his city and tell him that you weren’t meeting your full potential down here? At some point Kier stood up, snarling at Rhysand and the others like a wild animal. Kier, so lost in his anger, let his mental shields falter. Just for a second, but it was more than enough time for your powers to draw his wayward thoughts to you, like a magnet, his unspoken intentions seeped into your own mind. You were always terrible at blocking him out when he got like that.

Power. Kier's thoughts whispered to you. A spy for him in the Inner Circle. It disgusted you how predictable your father was, his intentions were always about how he could best use you for his own gain. It was the driving force behind your excessive training habits, desperate to protect yourself from the toxicity of his intentions. The more you failed at keeping him out, the more you hated him, and by default hated yourself.

Rhysand was right, you were wasted down here, and it wasn’t that your father didn’t see that, he didn’t care. He wasn’t furious with the High Lord for taking another daughter away from him, he was mad about losing a tool.

Well, your father could rot down here alone for all you cared.

You felt a lot of things in that moment. Intimidated by the prospect of working with Nesta, unsure of Mor’s morals and the rumors surrounding her, apprehensive of Rhysand and Feyre’s power, and not to mention all the unknown dynamics between the rest of the Inner Circle. But, despite all that uncertainty, you did not feel nervous about leaving Hewn City with them.

The first task Kier ever appointed you was to report on Rhysand and his Inner Circle’s intentions every time they visited. Either they all had flawless control over their mental shields, or their icy behavior was an act from the beginning. You never dared to share your suspicions with Kier, your father only wanted ammo for his hate, and he never took kindly to evidence that didn’t support his biases against High Lord Rhysand.

It felt a little too much like blind faith and a hunch for you to be 100% comfortable with the decision, but you decided to put your trust in these strangers anyway.

You would take the job.

Not to be a spy for Kier.

Not out of some duty to your High Lord or older sister.

It was time to live your life for you. Consequences be damned.

But, the focus of this story was not about moving to Velaris with Mor and getting to know the Inner Circle. It wasn’t about how much you rock as a diplomat for the Night Court. It wasn’t about how good it felt the first time sunlight touched your skin upon leaving the underground city. It wasn’t even about how you and Nesta became best friends. However good those stories may be.

However, this story is about Azriel Shadowsinger, and how the mysterious pretty boy extraordinaire himself, fell head over heels for you without you ever picking up on it. Yeah, that’s right, the girl who struggled to control her talent for hearing unspoken intentions never puzzled the pieces together. For literal years everyone else in the godforsaken room could tell the Spymaster was in love with you, except for you.

It all started with an argument with Rhysand a few assignments into your career as the Night Court Courtier. You felt like you could handle traveling between Courts without needing an escort, especially if you’d be meeting up with Nesta at the destination anyway. Rhysand did not agree, basically threatening to ground you if you didn’t allow someone to accompany you.

That was how Azriel had become your full-time travel partner. Rhysand appointed Azriel as an additional escort in case Nesta was pulled away.

You’d take this to your grave before ever admitting it, but Rhysand wasn’t wrong to be worried. There had been a good number of times where just that had happened. Nesta would be working the other side of the room, and having Azriel lingering nearby eased your nerves. Prythian was a vast Realm, and Rhys had been right in worrying about your adjustment.

It didn’t take too long for you to adapt once you had visited all the different Courts a few times. Yet, Azriel continued to go out of his way to accompany you to events. The first obvious sign of his affections for you came a couple years into your career.

The event was in a small Day Court town on the border of the Night Court, just under a day’s travel from Velaris on foot. Home to one of the libraries hit hardest by Amarantha’s looting, the entire town was celebrating the return of a sizable chunk of the stolen volumes. The gala was advertised to be a quaint dinner and cocktail hour. You suspected that scholars and book enthusiasts would be the bulk of those present. Although interested in going, Rhysand had High Lord duties to attend to that involved Nesta and the other Archeron sisters in the Summer Court. With a promise to fill everyone in on anything of interest, you packed a small overnight bag and waited for Mor to arrive home. You never developed the ability to winnow, so you needed someone to bring you.

Fussing with your hair in one of the numerous mirrors decorating Mor’s walls, you couldn’t help but smile at your reflection. Your time in Velaris, just over two years, had already begun to sooth a deep sadness you hadn’t realized had settled under your skin. It was obvious in the gentle way you gazed at your reflection, the healthy flush of your cheeks, and the warmth of your thoughts. Velaris looked good on you, and as you smoothed a hand down the shimmery sapphire blue fabric of the dress that clung to your curves, you thought the new formalwear looked good on you too.

Giddiness bubbled up in you at the idea of modeling the new dress for Mor. The excitement felt foreign still, after spending centuries believing Mor didn’t care to know her own little sister. You never thought you’d ever get the chance to gush over dresses with her. Kier hated everything Mor represented, and was cruel to her in ways that made you feel lucky in a perverse way. Your father may have manipulated and alienated you, filling your head with lies about your older sister, but it was never public. Kier made sure everyone in the Court of Nightmares knew that Mor was a useless whore and a traitor.

When Mor became a core member of the Inner Circle, and Rhysand put her in charge of Hewn City, you would wait for her to acknowledge you during her visits. Decades turned into a century, but the same hope would always rise up when Mor was due for a visit, only to be crushed when she ignored you. She never paid you a second of her time, just a fleeting look in passing as if you were another spectator. Knowing that she wasn’t ignoring you out of ill intent stung more, because you couldn’t bring yourself to hate her.

Kier may be your father, but that didn’t mean you had to be a fan of his intentions. You never believe the rumors he spread about Mor.

And then, the big reveal came. It turned out that to Mor, you were just another spectator. Mor didn’t know she had a younger sister at all. Keir hid you so well that no one realized you were related to him. A detail that made you feel so small when it came to light. You were just the shy woman in the background, taught to be pleasant when spoken to, a pretty little wallflower the rest of the time.

Later, when you asked about who first realized your identity, you got mixed accounts from the Inner Circle. Rhysand insisted that it was he who put the pieces together first. Stating that it came to him suddenly after Azriel submitted a report from a surveillance mission detailing an overheard conversation between you and Kier about your talents. Rhysand claimed that your powers reminded him of a variation of Mor’s. The rest of the Inner Circle credited Feyre for noting the resemblance between you, Kier, and The Morrigan the first time she noticed you loitering at the back of a council meeting.

When the truth was confirmed, and you agreed to go with them, Mor wept. She vowed to never leave you alone in The Court of Nightmares ever again, even for a second. That promise was your first experience with making a deal in the Night Court. Your clear surprise at the intricate tattoo that branded itself over the center of your sternum clued Mor, Rhysand, and Feyre in on how out of touch you were with common lore from your own Court. Mor wasted no time in winnowing you out of there after that. The both of you had heard enough of Keir’s nasty sneers and low-blow comments to last a lifetime.

Now, Mor’s cozy little home was also your cozy little home, if not a bit tight for two people. If someone asked you a decade ago if you thought you’d ever have a relationship with Mor you would advise them to seek out a healer.

And yet there you were, vibrating with things to tell her, anticipating her arrival with an almost goofy grin when…Azriel of all people winnowed into the living room.

Perplexed, but not totally disappointed, “Oh!” you said, clearly taken aback. “I was expecting Mor.”

Azriel huffed a low chuckle, dimples bracketing his amused half-smile. “Sorry to disappoint.”

You looked him over, dark circles under his eyes, droopy eyelids, posture leaning forward in a slight slouch. “Az, didn’t you just return from a long mission? Why aren’t you resting?”

“Wanted to escort you to the Day Court Library Gala, of course.”

The tenderness in his voice had warmth bubbling up from your chest. “That is very kind,” you started, making sure to meet his gaze so he knew you meant it, “but you look so tired, Az. I’ve visited the Day Court a bunch of times now and only need someone to winnow me there. As much as I enjoy having you accompany me to these things, I don’t want you to stretch yourself thin on my account. I’ve got this.”

“I know you’ve got this,” came his immediate reply, “as you’ve pointed out I’ve been gone for a few weeks. What if I offered to escort you because I missed you, hm?”

Despite yourself you felt a flush of heat in your cheeks at his teasing. You refused to use your powers on anyone in the inner circle, unwilling to violate their privacy without explicit consent. But you didn’t need your powers to read Azriel’s sincerity. It made it hard to meet his gaze, you turned back to running your fingers through your hair in the mirror, taking a moment to compose yourself. “Well alright then, I don’t think I can do anything more to tame my hair, we should be off then.”

You felt Azriel at your back, a gloved hand coming up to gently grasp your elbow, guiding your arm down as his hand trailed down the bare skin of your forearm to hold yours, turning you to face him. “Stop fussing, you look stunning, this dress is new, right? I think the color suits you.”

You smiled. “Thank you, I suppose you would like this color, now that I’m thinking about it,” with your free hand you held up the skirt of the floor length dress to the siphon on his wrist, marveling at the color match, “it looks like I did it on purpose.”

He hummed in acknowledgement as he pulled you closer into an almost embrace. “We should go now. Wouldn’t want to miss the opening speeches.”

You suppressed a shudder. Definitely from the way his breath tickled your ear, and not from the way his voice sounded as he tucked you into his chest. “You hate opening speeches.” You pointed out, remembering all the times he complained about how boring they were.

“I do, but you like them.” You’d never said as much aloud, but you did enjoy listening to people talk about things they were passionate about, and opening speeches tended to be just that. Of course the Spymaster had noticed.

If Azriel saw your smile before you hid your face against his leather-clad pec he didn’t let on. You pulled your hands free and looped your arms around his middle, clasping your fingers together under the base of his wings.

“I’m ready then, thank you for coming with me.” Your voice was muffled, unwilling to tilt your head up to talk to him in case your maddening blush was there. It didn’t seem to matter how many times you winnowed with Az, your whole face would go cherry red. Something Cassian never failed to poke fun at whenever he witnessed it.

Azriel wrapped his arms tightly around you, your body now flush to his. You focused on the sound of his wings rustling as he tucked them in closer. Anything to distract from the way your pulse spiked when you felt his lips brush against the crown of your head, his hold on you gentle, yet firm and protective as darkness folded around the both of you.

XxXx

Neither you nor Azriel realized the issue with your room reservation until much too late. Upon arrival in The Day Court the both of you hurried to the event. The gala wrapped up around midnight, and like most of the other guests staying in town, you and Azriel retired back to the nearby Inn. With your strappy heels in hand and a pleasant buzz from the alcohol, you felt positively bubbly. Paused in front of your room, you let Azriel rummage through the small black purse at your side for the key. After almost leading them into the wrong room, Azriel took it upon himself to find the correct room and unlock the door.

Minutes later you were still trying to suppress a smile at how Azriel reacted with such mortification when he realized you’d led them to the wrong room. The mental image of the great Shadowsinger so frantic in his efforts to stop you from further jostling the doorknob, had you letting out a laugh before you could stop it.

“It’s not funny.” He grumbled as he swung the wooden door to your room open, leading you inside. You were on the verge of poking fun at him some more when you caught a glimpse of the interior layout. Right, you had RSVP’d expecting to attend the gala alone. The realization sobered you up real fast.

The room was small, burgundy curtains concealing a sizable window, antique desk with tourist flyers stacked in a neat pile on top. A queen sized, four post bed situated in the middle of the room.

“I’ll take the floor—” Azriel started saying.

But you interrupted him. “—you should have the bed.”

“Absolutely not, what kind of gentleman would I be if I let a lady sleep on the floor while I hogged the whole bed.” He nodded, as if the conversation was over, and you had to fight the urge to roll your eyes at him.

“There’s not even enough space on the floor for you to stretch out Az. The room is basically only bed. It’s fine, I can use my extra clothes—”

You inhaled sharply, tensing at the thought of your overnight bag, left forgotten back at Mor's apartment. Your eyes darted to Azriel, meeting his gaze out of the corner of your eye, and you knew you didn’t need to say anything about it as he scoffed under his breath.

“You forgot your bag.” He observed.

Sighing, you ran a hand through your hair, your tight dress feeling like it was constricting around your chest as you contemplated sleeping in it. “I did indeed forget my bag.”

“We could just go back, we don’t have to stay here for the night.” Azriel pointed out, but the thought of cutting the trip short caused a ripple of disappointment to drop in your stomach.

“Or,” he continued with a hint of amusement, “I have an undershirt beneath my leathers. I changed before I met you at Mor’s, so it’s relatively clean. I was going to sleep in it tonight, but I would sacrifice my shirt for you if it meant you’d stop frowning like that.”

If you thought you were anxious before, Azriel’s suggestion sent your anxiety through the roof. You had always found Azriel attractive, even when you were still living in Hewn City. Who wouldn’t? That attraction grew into a bit of a crush when you first arrived in Velaris. He treated you with such care as you adjusted to living above ground, quiet, patient, and thoughtful.

Once it was apparent that you would be working closely with him you shut that shit down. You and him had spent a lot of time traveling together the last few years, always with separate sleeping arrangements, and never sharing clothing. You went out of your way to respect his privacy, give him space, all in hopes of being someone he one day could trust, like how you trusted him.

You could handle one night, sharing a bed, borrowing his shirt. That wouldn’t totally backfire on you in any way, right? Nodding to yourself once, you tried for an air of confidence as you talked around the nerves that have bloomed in your chest.

“Okay,” you agreed, “but if I change into your shirt you definitely can’t take the floor. I won’t let you sleep shirtless on the ground while I’m all tucked in and cozy in bed. I’ll only take up a sliver of it by myself anyway.”

He opened his mouth to object, his intentions written in the way his brow furrowed at you. But you barreled on anyway, “So, we share the bed tonight. Are you comfortable with that?”

His mouth snapped shut, eyes studying you for a tense moment as if you may be tricking him. You clasped your hands together in front of you, the longer you waited for him to respond the clammier your palms felt. Each second felt like an eternity and in no time at all you found yourself scrambling for a way to play off your idea as a joke.

Of course he wouldn’t want to share a bed with you. What in the world had you been thinking?

Maybe you could blame it on that deliciously fizzy drink you downed before leaving the gala, say you weren’t in your right mind. Pretend to not remember in the morning, as if this wasn’t going to be a moment you cringe about decades later. Would you be able to just laugh it off? Would Azriel be chill enough to let you live this down? You were probably so screwed.

He was still a little tense, but just before your panic truly took root Azriel began to nod his head like he...agreed with you?

“Yes, I think that is the most logical solution. The bed can definitely fit two.” Azriel finally said, and you tried to keep yourself from gaping at his response. But your surprise must have been all over your face because he went on to say, “I didn’t suggest it myself because I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Wiping your hands down the front of your dress did little to help with the sweat. The pit that had been taking form in your stomach churned, your dread morphing into jittery nerves.

Then, as if you weren’t having a nervous breakdown right in front of him, the handsome lunatic started striping his leathers off. Dept hands tossing his gloves to the desk, he unclasped the chest pieces of his leathers, they fell to the floor with a thud. Then, the promised black undershirt was up over his head, and you were drinking in all his tattoos and corded muscles like you were a tactless teenager instead of a 300+ year old female.

A flash of movement from him, and you flinched when his shirt hit you square in the face. It was so big it draped over your head. You made a disgruntled noise, ignoring how delicious the shirt smelled as you removed it from your face, “Hey—!”

“If you’re done gawking at me like you’ve never seen a shirtless male, you can get ready for bed first.” He headed further into the room, collecting his chest piece off the floor and approaching the desk to place it with his gloves. He turned to face you, his butt propped against the desk as he gestured to the door his wingspan had been blocking from view. He crossed his arms over his bare chest, flexing his biceps, and you almost swooned at the sight. He knew exactly what he was doing.

Your fist tightened around the shirt, fighting the urge to toss it back at him out of spite. Embarrassment felt like hot iron under your skin, so instead you snapped your attention to the door he had pointed out–the bathroom. You knew you’d averted your gaze much too fast to seem unaffected by him. He chuckled, and you glowered at him as his head tilted to the side, watching you with a bemused expression. He looked about ready to comment further, but you waved him off with faux-annoyance and an exaggerated roll of your eyes. Clutching his shirt close to your chest, you escaped into the bathroom.

Subtle.

Pressing your back to the door, it closed under your weight. You paused there for a moment to focus on your breathing, your frazzled mind going a mile a minute. This was all so far out of your comfort zone, it wasn’t even funny. You never had to deal with handsome males in The Court of Nightmares, Kier didn’t let you socialize long enough for it to even be on your radar. Dating hadn’t quite made your list of top priorities upon arriving in Velaris either.

What little experience you did have was with a male named Allistair. You’d met him at Rita’s within your first year above ground. It was a fling of sorts that lasted a few months before you decided casual dating wasn’t for you. He was a perfectly adequate lover. At least you think he was. He was also your only lover. A nice enough companion as you acclimated to your new life. The times you had been intimate with that male had left you feeling…bereft. Seeing Allistair shirtless had been nothing like seeing Azriel shirtless.

And Azriel calling you out for ogling him so blatantly? Mother have mercy.

So now you were just expected to fall asleep next to him wearing his shirt after that? The situation almost made you want to laugh at the absurdity of it all. The last thing you wanted was to draw his suspicion by loitering against the door for too much longer, so you moved to the sink. Maybe splashing lukewarm water on your face would reveal that this had all been a weird ass nightmare.

Cupping water into your face a couple more times, you took in the smeared makeup dripping down your face in the mirror. Definitely not a dream.

Azriel was going to think you were in love with him for fucksake.

Snatching the nearby hand towel from the rack on the wall you soaked it, and got to work on scrubbing your face clean. You had to have a little more faith in Azriel. He wouldn’t let a single weird moment ruin over two years of amicable teamwork. But your personal relationship with him felt fragile to you at best. You can't let some tattoos and abs mess up what you considered to be the most solid friendship you’d made among the Inner Circle.

So what if he was hot as hell? You could co-exist with attractive people, it was legit a part of your job. You could salvage the situation, just change out of the dress you accidentally matched to the colors of his siphons, put his shirt on that smelled so strongly of him it gave you a headrush, and face him like you hadn't just been drooling over him.

You know, simple.

The hem of his t-shirt landed just above your knees, and the comfort you found in it was criminal. The black fabric was very soft and so baggy that you worried the wing slits in the back would shift forward in your sleep. It could reveal a little more than what you’d considered 'tasteful side boob'.

Resisting the urge to fuss in the mirror (because it wasn't like you were trying to look cute for anyone, right?), you exited the bathroom clean faced and a bit more settled than when you had entered.

Your bravado, however, was short lived. Azriel faced away from you in only his underwear, the rest of his leathers added to the pile on the desk. He was organizing his various knives on the bedside table closest to the main door.

He looked over his shoulder at you. Totally not catching you checking out his butt in the tight underpants. Cauldron boil you. Would it be weird if you marched yourself back into the bathroom to try the whole “not affected by sexy, almost nude Illyrian warrior” thing again?

Azriel inhaled sharply, and you snuck a glance at him. His attention was back on his knives, but there was a tension to him, almost like he was brooding. There might have been a light blush over his cheeks, but you felt weird analyzing him anymore than you already had out of habit. You clocked the change in his body language for what it was the instant he saw you in his shirt. Clenched jaw, tense shoulders, spine ramrod straight, wide eyed before averting his gaze, elevated heart rate–classic signs of attraction. Reactions he clearly didn’t want you to notice.

"I'm taking this side." He informed almost absently, patting the mattress. Leaving you with the window side.

You wandered to the desk to avoid observing him further, wishing that you could turn off the part of you that always seemed to be prying for more information. And then you felt it, his thoughts getting louder, his emotions growing wilder, reaching out to you. You slammed your mental shields up hard, a gross feeling taking root when it was too late.

Protect. Azriel’s intentions conveyed to you. Protect. Comfort. Provide. Here you were invading his private thoughts without his knowledge, while he was concerned with your wellbeing. What was the point of all that effort Rhysand put into teaching you how to better control your mental shields? It never worked when you needed it most. The failure stung, and you had to busy yourself with folding your dress in a neat square so you had something to keep your hands from shaking.

It was quiet for too long, and you struggled with recalling what he had said to you before you’d lost control. Something about the bed. "Sounds good to me." You decide on saying, placing your dress next to his leathers.

Azriel didn’t seem to find your reply out of the ordinary. Small mercies.

"I'll be out in a few minutes, then." His voice was rougher than before, and it sent chills down your spine. As soon as you heard the bathroom door click shut you scurried into bed. You couldn’t get under the covers fast enough, pulling the blankets up to your neck with a hefty sigh of relief.

It felt awesome to be laying down after such a long evening on your feet. Too bad you couldn’t enjoy it more, instead drowning under waves of shame. Maybe you’d never get a full handle on your powers. Maybe the Mother was teaching you a lesson in this life? You couldn’t fathom what the moral could be. You wanted more than anything to be able to mind your business.

You wished you could turn your brain off. Alas, even your guilt couldn’t stop you from reflecting and organizing what you’d just observed. Not only had you heard his intentions, but you also felt them. Unlike the sweet warmth of his thoughts, his gaze had felt like desire and bad decisions.

He didn’t seem like he was actively seeking to bed you. You reasoned that you were also an available female wearing nothing but his shirt and a pair of panties. You could only imagine how all of that must have chafed against his Illyrian instincts. Rhysand had once mentioned that Illyrians were possessive and protective at best, controlling and jealous at their worst.

Surely those possessive instincts were what you were picking up on, then. You were covered in his scent after all. That was the only logical explanation for his reaction, his instincts were telling him to protect you because you were vulnerable and wearing his clothing. Even if it didn’t quite sound right to you, it was the only explanation you were willing to entertain. You were barely friends, there was no way Azriel wanted to court you. The thought sent a fleeting pang of disappointment through you that you refused to examine.

Whatever. There wasn’t anything you could do to make the situation less messy right now. You were exhausted, and stewing on scenarios that would never amount to anything real was unlike you.

Snuggling further into the sheets, you decided it was best to just pretend you hadn’t noticed shit. The damage was done, Azriel wasn’t dumb, he at least knew he had flustered you. You weren’t going to draw any more attention to that tonight. Or tomorrow. Or ever. Everything about this night was a fluke.

Azriel returned from the bathroom, and you kept your focus on fluffing your pillows. Sitting up you tossed an extra pillow onto the floor, and you could feel as soon as his eyes landed on you that some of his…instincts…were still acting up. You pulled the comforter back up to your neck as he got into bed next to you. Turning on your side to face him you were determined to be normal. No more awkward gawking allowed tonight.

He stretched his arms up above his head, his joints popping a million times as he groaned in relief. You couldn't help chuckling at him, the fearsome Shadowsinger of the Night Court, doing something so mundane.

Scooting further onto the bed, Azriel rolled over to meet your gaze, his wings tucked close to his back as he settled. Most of his wingspan spilled over the side of the bed anyway. He surveyed you, eyes lingering along your tired but genuine smile, and you saw the stern tenseness slowly leave his body. "You sure you're comfortable with this?" He asked.

Your smile turned a tad warmer. This male was just so kind, so different from what you knew in Hewn City. "I am, I trust you Azriel." It was the truth. You didn't have friends growing up, and although you may have a long way to go before Azriel truly called you his friend, you considered him a dear (sexy) friend.

Your words seem to settle something in him, and you could have sworn you saw something almost affectionate flash across his face. You blink, and it's gone, but the fuzzy feeling it left in your chest remains.

Like he sensed your mushy thoughts, he ruined the moment. "So I have to ask you something, it’s serious.”

Your brows raised in bemused interest, the scenario with him wishing to court you snapping to the forefront of your mind again. He’d always been very attentive to you, but in a worried protective way. You’d never picked up on any romantic intentions from him before, and he’s not the type to make a decision like that on a whim. The chance was small, but you couldn’t 100% rule out him wanting to ask you out. Could you say no to him? Would you even want to say no? You’d never considered this as an option before!

He held your gaze, as if for dramatic effect and then with the seriousness of a top notch spymaster he asked you, “You have seen a shirtless male before...right?"

Maybe it was a mistake to consider this male kind, he was a menace all along.

You had never rolled your eyes so hard at someone. Unbelievable.

Turning away from him with enough force to toss your hair in his face, you are rewarded with the sound of his indignant grunt.

"Can you turn the light off please?" You snap, unable to rein in your annoyance. Unsettled by how it tasted almost like rejection.

"You didn't answer my question." He goaded, and you fell right for it.

"Yeah, because it's a silly question." You fire back.

He hummed at your response, "Doesn't seem like you think it's a silly question."

You would rather swallow your own tongue than admit to Azriel that you’d seen shirtless males, but he had been the first you’d enjoyed seeing shirtless.

Done with the line of questioning, you blindly flung your arm back, swatting at him. He startled at the contact, and he exhaled a scoff when you didn't stop flopping your arm at him after the first blow.

He caught your wrist, stilling your flailing. "Fine, fine, I'll drop it," He let go of your wrist, “for now.”

You shifted to burrow further into your pillows, totally not dwelling on how his big hand wrapped around your wrist made you feel dainty. The texture of his scars hadn’t made your heart skip a beat either. Nope. Not at all.

"Could you shut the light off please." You asked again with more venom than you intended. It bothered you how easy this male could get under your skin. He wasn’t even trying.

You felt his weight shifting, the bed frame squeaking a bit as he moved. "Anything for you, Princess." He shuffled a little more, and then the light went off, casting the both of you in darkness.

The nickname made you grimace into your pillow. No one had ever called you that before, and you really didn’t want it to catch on.

You felt him return to the position on his side facing you. Some moments passed in loud silence, and although you were the one that let the conversation drop, the residual tension in the room was killing you. There was no way you would be able to fall asleep, and you would bet that Azriel was stewing in the tension too.

"Az?" You whispered. His response was quick like he’d been waiting on edge for you to speak, "Yes?"

"Goodnight." And you found yourself meaning it. You hoped he got some sleep tonight despite the turmoil he had so effortlessly sowed in your stomach with his teasing. The prick.

You could practically hear the mischief in his voice. "Sleep well, princess."

Ugh. Your stomach coiled, but not in an entirely unpleasant way. Very dangerous. It was an inappropriate reaction, and you wrote it off as stress. However as hard as you wished to forget it, you wouldn’t be forgetting how Azriel had made you feel that night anytime soon.

Even your racing thoughts couldn’t stop sleep from finding you, putting you out of your misery.

And if you woke up to the sounds of song birds that morning, your face pressed against Azriel's neck, your body sprawled atop him while he slept on his back, then that was your business. No one would know if you relished being in his arms a few minutes longer than necessary. You wouldn’t confirm nor deny if one of his hands had looped through a wing hole of his borrowed shirt, his fingers resting just under your breast.

And so what if it had been the best sleep you'd gotten since leaving Hewn City. And if Azriel seemed more well rested than usual on your return to the Night Court, you certainly didn't notice that either.

XxXx

Next Chapter

#azriel x reader #acotar #azriel x you #friends to lovers #slow burn #one bed trope #one shot #one shot series #azriel #my writing #kayjaywrites #like bugs in a rug

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yuutx · 2 months

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ೀ ׅ ۫ . 𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐑 ? ! (𝐼𝐿 𝒟𝒪𝒯𝒯𝒪𝑅𝐸)

il dottore x f!reader ﾉ 18+ content. ﾉ nsfw + unprotected sex / raw sex ﾉ female masturbation ﾉ test subject x mad scientist ﾉ degrading kink ﾉ clit play ﾉ dirty talk ﾉ size kink ﾉ mdom + fsub ﾉ not proofread ! ૮꒰ྀི ◡ ˶ ◡ ꒱ྀི১

i wrote this a while ago 'n i just found it in my drafts 2 day so i figured i should finally post it ! i wld srsly do anything 'n everything 2 be dottore's test stubject he is soo perfect. art credits go to the lovely @/lllOhara ! ♡ + ↻ are rlly appreciated ! !

Piercing red orbs scanned the room, scrutinizing every detail. His lips curled into a slight smirk as he saw your figure curled up, encapsulated within a metal cage, and suspended by thick ropes. You looked so small and frail, like a little bird locked away in its gilded cage. The man could hardly suppress a laugh as his eyes trailed up your naked figure, stopping when he saw your head hanging low. It was obvious you were still unconscious, but it wouldn't be long before you awoke. Your breathing had evened out, and the wounds you'd received were beginning to stitch themselves back together. It would seem that you had more fight in you than he'd initially anticipated, and for a brief moment he'd been afraid that he'd made a mistake by attempting to bring you here. But alas, his worries were unfounded. The Doctor was always right.

"Y/N," the man spoke, his voice a deep baritone. His words hung in the air as he waited for you to reply. When you didn't stir, his smirk only grew. "I know you're awake, pet," the Doctor spoke again, this time more clearly, "You're a terrible liar, my dear. Now, stop playing pretend and look at me."

His command was sharp and commanding, yet soft and inviting, and it forced you to comply. Slowly, you raised your head, eyes fluttering open, and met the Doctor's gaze. As your eyes landed on his form, you felt a rush of emotions wash over you, ranging from anger, to fear, and even a sense of longing. You couldn't help but notice the way the light reflected off of his ruby red irises, making them shine like the most brilliant of gems. It was then that you realized just how handsome the Doctor was. His features were sharp and chiseled, his expression serious and brooding, yet his mouth was pulled into a devious smile that made your heart race. The man's appearance was nothing short of regal, and he commanded respect from all who were lucky enough to meet him.

The mask he usually wore was gone, revealing his face in its entirety. You noticed how his lips were set into a thin line, and the way his nose curved downward towards his pointed chin. He was tall, much taller than you were, and his shoulders were broad and powerful. You found yourself mesmerized by the man before you, unable to take your eyes off him, even as your heart pounded wildly in your chest. It was a strange sensation, this mixture of fear and desire, and you had no idea what to do with it. Were you attracted to the Doctor? Perhaps… perhaps not, but something inside of you wanted him, that was for certain.

Your body betrayed you as you shifted uncomfortably beneath his gaze, drawing his attention to your nudity. Your nipples had hardened, and your core throbbed with need, aching for release. It wasn't right, you thought to yourself, you shouldn't feel this way about someone who'd captured you, imprisoned you, and planned on experimenting on you. But the longer you stared, the more you wanted him, and the more your mind seemed to lose focus on anything else. Your vision swam as a haze clouded your thoughts, leaving you completely intoxicated with desire. And just like that, you lost control. Your legs parted instinctively, and your hips bucked upward, grinding against the bars of your prison. It was almost as if your body had a mind of its own. You'd never felt anything like it before. The sensation was overwhelming, and you couldn't stop yourself. It was like you'd gone mad, your body reacting on its own accord, no longer caring about consequences or rational thought. And the worst part was, you loved every second of it. Your cheeks flushed crimson as you writhed beneath him, the cool metal of the cage rubbing against your sex, sending shivers down your spine.

You could feel his gaze upon you, watching as your breasts bounced and jiggled while you rode the bars of the cage, grinding yourself against them. Your moans grew louder, and your breathing became labored. It was so good, you thought to yourself, too good. You couldn't help but wonder, had you really gone insane? Were you really willing to sacrifice yourself just for the sake of pleasure? And yet, here you were, doing exactly that. And the man watched, his expression unchanging, save for the slightest hint of amusement in his eyes. His lips twitched, fighting back a smile as he enjoyed your performance. Your moans echoed throughout the laboratory, drowning out the sounds of the machines and equipment around you. It was beautiful, he thought, how could something so lewd and vulgar be so breathtakingly gorgeous? You were like a living work of art, and he could watch you for hours.

You felt your climax approaching, and you tried desperately to stave it off, not wanting the Doctor to see you in such a state. However, you were powerless to stop it. Your orgasm tore through your body, causing your limbs to spasm uncontrollably. Your head lolled forward, and your jaw fell open, letting loose a series of breathy whimpers. Your hips bucked upwards, slamming into the bars, forcing your body against the cold metal. The pleasure was indescribable, unlike anything you'd ever experienced before. It was intense, raw, and powerful, and it left you panting heavily. You could feel the slickness coating the bars, and the smell of your arousal permeated the air. You were completely spent, utterly exhausted from the force of your orgasm, and yet somehow you felt invigorated. You couldn't remember the last time you had came so hard, and the intensity of it took your breath away.

A low rumble reverberated throughout the laboratory, and you could feel the vibrations travel up your spine. The machine beside you was whirring to life, and a loud clicking sound filled the room as its gears began to turn. You couldn't understand what it was doing, or what it meant, but the Doctor seemed pleased by whatever results were displayed. He walked over to you, his eyes never leaving yours, and knelt down beside the cage. He placed his gloved hands against the bars, gripping them tightly, and leaned in close. "That was quite impressive," he murmured, his breath tickling your ear, "Now, let's see what other noises I can pull from that pretty little mouth of yours."

Dottore pressed a button, and the cage was lowered to the ground. You looked up at him, and your eyes met his, and his hand moved to the lock, sliding a key inside. The door opened with a loud click, and he stepped back, allowing you to crawl out. Once you were free, the Doctor grabbed hold of your hair, yanking you forward. You stumbled slightly, and fell into his arms. He wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you firmly against him, causing your dripping cunt to rub against his groin. A moan escaped your lips as his erection pressed into you, and you felt him twitch in response. "Ahh.." he breathed, his grip tightening around you, "I'm afraid I can't wait any longer."

With one fluid motion, he lifted you into the air, and carried you across the room. He set you down onto a large, cushioned table, and began removing his clothes. You watched him closely, taking in every detail of his muscular frame, admiring the way his muscles rippled under his pale skin. The Doctor's gaze remained locked on yours, and his pupils were dilated, filled with lust. You noticed the prominent bulge in his pants, and your mouth watered as he unzipped his trousers, revealing his swollen member. His cock was massive, thick and long, and it stood proudly at attention, leaking precum down the shaft. He stroked himself lazily, and a deep growl rumbled from his throat. "Do you see what you've done to me, pet?" he asked, his voice husky with desire, "This is all because of you."

You swallowed hard, and nodded, biting your lip as he stroked himself faster. He continued pumping his fist, until his cock glistened with precum. His hand traveled lower, and he cupped his balls, massaging them gently. "Such a naughty little thing, making me hard like this.." he purred, his voice low and husky, "You'll have to pay for that.." The Doctor grabbed hold of your wrists, and forced you onto all fours, getting on the table behind you. "I'm going to break your fucking mind, pet." He growled, "You'll be too fucked up to think straight when I'm done with you." His words sent shivers down your spine, and you whimpered softly as his cock brushed against your slit. He pushed inside of you, and you gasped at the sudden intrusion. His length stretched you to the limit, filling you completely. You cried out in pleasure as his cock slammed into you, burying itself inside your wet cunt. Your walls clenched around him, and his hands gripped your hips tightly, digging into your skin. His thrusts were slow and steady, his pace leisurely, and his eyes never left yours. Your head rolled back, and your body shuddered beneath him, overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through you.

Dottore's heavy balls smacked against your clit, all while his cock reached places inside of you that hadn't been touched in a long time. He groaned as he bottomed out, pushing deep into your depths, making sure his full length was seethed inside of you. His movements were unhurried, but firm, cock swelling with need as he fucked into your cunt. Your hands clawed at the table, nails digging into the leather, leaving long scratches across the surface. You moaned loudly, unable to contain your sounds of pleasure. "Fuck.." he cursed, "Your pussy's so damn tight.." Your walls squeezed around him, pulling him deeper, causing his hips to stutter. He grunted, and began pumping his hips, pistoning into your core with renewed vigor. His cock slammed into you over and over again, until he finally released a torrent of hot cum into your womb, coating your insides with his seed. His grip tightened around your hips, and he pulled you closer, pressing his chest against your back. "That's it," he growled, his breath hot against your neck, "Take all of it." His words were like music to your ears, and you did as he commanded, letting him fill you up with his thick load. Your body shook, and your eyes rolled back as you fucked yourself onto his dick, slamming yourself back against his groin. He growled low in his throat, and began thrusting harder, using you like a living fleshlight. Your moans grew louder, echoing through the laboratory, filling the air with lewd, obscene sounds. Your juices flowed freely, mixing with his cum, creating a sticky mess between your legs. He pounded into you with such force that the table rattled beneath you, causing it to shake violently.

"Ohhh..oh fuck…fuck, mm-! L-Love it, I love it so muchhh..!" you gasped, tears stinging your eyes as he fucked your brains out, your walls milking his cock, "'m gonna cum..c- h-haahh…so-so close…w-wanna cum on y-your cock…" Your words were slurred, and incoherent, and your body trembled uncontrollably as you neared your peak. "Mm? Is that so?" the Doctor questioned, "Are you gonna cum for your dear Dottore?" You nodded frantically, a hand jumping to your clit, pinching the sensitive nub between your fingers. "Y-Yes…please…p-plea- please make me cum.." you begged, voice strained and shaky, "C-Can't wait..need to…n-nowww..!!" Your words were cut off as your back arched, body trembling as your squirted, splattering him with your juices. Your body went rigid, and your mouth hung open, a scream escaping your lips as he pumped another load of his thick cum into your used hole. "Oh, you little slut," he laughed, his cock still buried deep inside you, "What a mess you've made, Y/N." He held you in place as his seed seeped out of you, dribbling down the front of the table. You couldn't move, your legs had given out, and you collapsed onto the table, panting heavily. Your body was covered in sweat, and your cheeks flushed red, and you could barely keep your eyes open. The Doctor chuckled, and kissed the back of your neck.

"Mmh, don't go falling asleep on me now.." he chided, "We're far from finished."

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buckyalpine · 9 months

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Cheating!Steve x reader, Bucky x reader

Oh look, more cheating Steve with sweetheart Bucky to save us

A/N: Last year someone asked me for some mad angsty fic and I posted and deleted it so quick because it was god awful. Just awful. However, I had kept a draft of it cause even though I hated it and everything about it, I didn't want it gone forever. Upon rereading it recently...I kinda like it. So I decided to change some stuff (like most of the entire plot), switch around characters (I'm a Bucky girl) and repost. If you want to see the OG fic, I can post it again or just edit this to add it under the new version

Steve couldn't stand seeing you like this. In the hospital room, the needles prodding you, it all reminds him of hydra and the things he had seen on numerous missions. When you almost die, he's thrown back into the spiral where he has no hope for a future. And nothing changes after you get better. You had almost died once. Missions were getting riskier and you weren't always in the clear. In his mind, everything good in his life leaves him or gets ripped away eventually. Peggy was a prime example of that. It's just a matter of time.

Even in your injured state, your attention was all on Steve. You knew how much he hated seeing you hurt. It sent him into a dark place few people had witnessed. As soon as your eyes fluttered open, your tired eyes met his red rimmed, puffy ones. For days, every time you try to bring him back to you, he has his walls built up again.

He won't let himself love you more.

He drinks.

He drinks enough to get drunk. It takes bottle after bottles but he doesn't care. He doesn't care about anything any more. So much so, he decides to seek the warmth of someone else.

Because you almost left him.

You could die so easily.

You almost did.

Nothing matters any more. His moans of pleasure are empty but he's wrapped around her none the less. He doesn't stop until his body can't move, too exhausted to even think about guilt.

You have it all planned out. You were finally released from the hospital and the first thing you wanted to do was spend time with Steve. The team had left the compound so you could set up a movie night for you and the captain, you don't want to let him slip from your grasp, not after all you'd been through together. You didn't go through hell and back to lose him like this. You fought for your life to pull through.

There are snacks laid out on the table, a movie pulled up, some hot chocolate made just for you and him. You shuffle nervously, your heart beating erratically. You didn't spend 4 years with him just for this to end because you nearly died. No. He was worth the fight. His cold demeanor was not towards you but towards the fear of losing you. And that fear was from love. Love you both shared deeply for each other.

You knew he got back from the bar late; if he was too drunk then you'd help him to his room and talk to him in the morning. It was a new habit of his but you understood.

Except he never came. He always made it home. Not tonight.

Steve stumbled in the next morning, rubbing his eyes, seeing a small sleeping form on the sofa, snacks and some drinks laid out in the living room. He swallowed thickly when he sees you get up from the couch wearing one of his hold hoodies, making your way towards him.

"Steve?"

You have a soft smile on your face, but it drops when you get a closer look at him. Tears prickle at your eyes when you see the way his neck is littered in bruises, his skin still flushed. He can't look you in the eyes, not after what he'd just done.

"I-

You freeze before him, you don't want to ask. You don't want to know. The broken expression his face is enough for you. You wordlessly leave the living room, locking yourself in, giving FRIDAY instructions to make sure no one can enter.

"Did you talk to y/n" Bucky asks excitedly when he sees Steve sitting in the living room. He knows how excited you were about the movie night, spending days planning every last detail. His excitement drops when he sees the food untouched and you're nowhere to be seen. "Where is she?"

Steve remains silent, staring at his hands. The rest of the team enter the living room, hoping to find you both curled on the couch, but no. Nat's eyes narrow when she sees the hickeys on Steve's neck but something tells her they're not from you, you've never marked him like that before, you've always been so gentle with him.

"How could you?" She hissed, while the rest of the team look at her in confusion. It doesn't take long for them to piece things together. And it's a mess.

You come down to the living room, both Sam and Tony holding Bucky down on the couch while he glares at Steve, his hands still in fists. They all turn towards you with broken eyes, this is not what they ever wanted for you. The second he sees you, he breaks down. You're numb to his cries, his pleas.

He finds you leaving the compound at 1:00 AM from where he's still seated on the couch, something you'd never done before.

"Baby? Where are you going"

You ignore him, making your way to the garage. You were never able to sleep since and staying in bed only left you alone with your thoughts.

"I-I need some space. Don't worry about where I'm going"

"Y/n, please, just let me explain"

"No"

"I made a mistake, I-

"I don't care. I just want need some air"

"Promise me you'll come back?"

You shake your head, you can't even look at Steve. You scoff, shoving past him, not caring when he hisses in pain. His cheek is bruised, spots of dark purple and blue bloom around his eye and you'd seen Nat icing Bucky's hand earlier.

"Y/n, please angel, I-I just want to talk, just promise me you'll come back?"

"I promise" You reluctantly mumble, hopping on your motor bike and speeding off before Steve can call after you again.

You loved him so much.

You fought so hard to pull through for him, you heard every word he'd said to you when you were unconscious.

Tears clouded your vision.

It all happens too fast for you to comprehend.

The car doesn't see you.

The bend is sharp.

You bike is sent over the edge.

Darkness.

It's been a week.

You still haven't woken up.

It's all his fault. It doesn't matter that the driver was intoxicated. It didn't matter that it was dark out. You wouldn't have left the compound if he hadn't done what he did and it eats him alive.

He's not met with any sympathy.

No one bats an eye at his tears or sobs, too concerned about your well being to go and comfort him. Like clock work, every member of the team visits on rotation since they can't all be there at once. however Bucky is exempt from all hospital rules with one brooding, grumpy stare.

Bucky is by your side every single day. He doesn't say anything when Steve grips your hand, praying for you to wake up, silently praying himself while your heart monitor continues to beep. Steve refuses to move from your side but he's not given much of a choice when Fury summons him personally for someone mission related.

He's only gone for a few hours but that's when you finally stir. Bucky is on his feet instantly, paging for the doctor while stroking your hair.

"Hey pretty girl" Bucky whispers when your eyes finally focus, the knuckles of his metal hand gently caressing your cheek. The cool sensation helps you feel more alert. You smile seeing his baby blue eyes, feeling safe as he talks to you softly.

Everything hits Steve all at once. He didn't just betray you. He betrayed the team. His bestfriend. Himself. All the people who had faith in him to make the right choice, to do the right thing, to protect them. And he threw it away. Everyone waited a month for you to fully recover before throwing a welcome back party so you'd actually be able to enjoy it. Steve looked back longingly at the happy group gathered together in the living room, more emotions hitting him again.

He was happy you were alive. His sweet, sweet girl pulled through. H

He was envious of the love everyone was sharing, one he wasn't privy to anymore. He was invited, he was still apart of the team after all but he knew it wasn't his place.

He was jealous.

Jealous of the way you melted into Bucky's side. Longing to feel that warmth that he used to feel himself. Bucky had his arm around your waist, keeping you tucked right by him, taking care of you long after you were discharged. He wasn't going to stop any time soon.

There was something between you two, everyone could sense it. The soft gazes at each other and innocent kisses. Bucky wouldn't let a day go by without pressing his lips to your cheek, your nose, your forehead, the top of your head. He needed you to know you were loved and cared for. He stuck to his guns, claiming his actions were purely platonic but the pink blush on his cheeks proved that he was a bald faced liar.

Steve knows theres no one to blame but himself. He sighs and swallows the lump in his throat as you stand on your tiptoes to kiss the brunette, sealing you both together forever. He's always thought it would be the two of you standing together at the alter but how things had changed. The cheers of the crowd are a dull buzz to him. He watches Bucky swoop in for another kiss, this time dipping you and capturing your lips sweetly.

"I love you Mrs. Barnes"

"I love you more, Mr. Barnes"

Your happy, love struck giggles cause the first tear to fall.

He does his best to smile when you both walk by, flashes of what your wedding would have looked like. The white dress. The veil. The flowers.

if only he never-

But it was too late.

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dallaji · 5 months

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Control Freak.

♡ bada lee x reader / NSFW❗❗❗

SUMMARY: Your girlfriend doesn’t like giving up the reins, but perhaps with some gentle urging she will finally let loose. Even if it's just for a little bit.

WORD COUNT: 4.7k

CW: PORN WITHOUT PLOT (like leech rallay NO plot), established relationship, reader is a power bottom and bada is perplexed!! befuddled!!11, bada with a strap, toys.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: please don't kill me for not releasing a request. (〃´▽`〃) this has been in my drafts for a while, so i decided to finish it. kind of experimental / out of my comfort zone, but hopefully still enjoyable!!1 not proofread yet btw.

————— ୨୧ —————

Bada always needed to be in control.

You had noticed when you first met her.

That particular club had never been on your radar before, but your friends dragged you along and the crowd and music were decent enough. It had only taken fifteen minutes of you dancing around strangers, the heavy bass of the music controlling the sway of your body, until a pair of magnetic eyes met yours from across the room.

Something about her beckoned you, the anticipation blooming in your stomach. Even when her arm had snaked around your lower back, signaling to any passersby that she had staked her claim, Bada couldn’t help but glance over to her friends every once in a while; making sure they weren’t going overboard with drinking. Before she took you to her place she checked in on each and every one of them, her hand never leaving your lower back.

When Bada had invited you to watch one of her dance classes, you immediately picked up on her ability to command the room. When her students performed the taught choreo back to her, Bada's eagle-like eyes searched for any out-of-place formations or unsharp movements. If anyone was off the beat, she would make them redo the entire routine start to finish. Not in a draconian way, but with words of encouragement, only ever wanting to see them give their very best.

You noticed again on one of your first dates. After offering to cook for her that evening, Bada insisted on tagging along with you to the grocery store. She had wricked the basket from your hand straight away with a half smile. Without even needing to, she reached any tall shelf regardless.

Once settled in your small one bedroom apartment, Bada had lurked over your shoulder with curious eyes like a patient puppy, watching you prepare the meal. Before you could even ask, she handed you whichever utensils or ingredients were needed. All that despite your constant urging to have her sit back and relax.

Instead, Bada shook her head with a bashful smile: “I want to help.” Is what she had said.

You noticed in more private settings, too.

Whenever she made you orgasm, she would lock your legs in place and deliberately hold down the thrashing of your limbs. Bada wanted to feel you lose yourself to her, and never make you forget who got you to that point.

Her hungry gaze didn't leave your face, as if she needed to commit every expression to memory. “That’s it, baby,” She’d coax, “So good for me.”

When she wore the familiar harness with her strap-on, she immediately had you bent over in a perfect angle; a hand on the back of your neck to keep you exactly where she wanted you as she pistoned her hips against you. As soon as you got close, she would pull out with a giggle, only to move you onto your back; hoisting your legs over her shoulders to see how far she could edge you along.

Sometimes you wanted to return the favor: “Let me make you feel good,” You would whisper against her lips, Bada panting underneath you as her hands found purchase on your hips.

Despite her unwavering dedication in keeping you pliant, you were desperate to give back to her. So you would throw a leg over her waist in a foolhardy attempt to lock her into place, and Bada followed your every motion with a lovestruck expression.

However, once your fingers pressed into her, half-lidded eyes meeting yours, her hand would curl around your wrist: sometimes dictating your motions, and sometimes just to keep a tight hold on you. A silent reminder of who is in charge.

And despite this clear-cut dynamic in the bedroom, neither of you ever cared for strict roles. It wasn’t something you had ever explicitly discussed. You worked her up just as much as she did you. Some days you were both desperate for it, one shoving the other against a wall after a long week of barely getting to see each other; other days the two of you giggled under the sheets, the early morning rise peeking through the blinds as soft pants filled the room.

Yet the outcome was always the same. Completely surrendering yourself to her as she, almost obsessively, found new ways to have you exactly the way she wanted you.

You didn’t mind, though, as it was so inherently Bada. Soft, yet capable; kind, but forthright; sometimes shy, though always poised.

But sometimes, you wondered.

After a particularly stressful day, she would lay you down on the bed and put on her strap without you even imploring her to do so. Wearing her harness, she could sometimes come from just watching your eyes roll back as she fucked into you, the suction on the back of the strap rubbing against her mound at just the right angle.

Other times, you pushed your hand down her harness, fingers circling her folds in an attempt to keep up with the unforgiving pace of her hips.

But most of the time, she would hold your hands over your head or against your back, and intently watch you come undone, not paying attention to her own pleasure whatsoever.

It almost seemed to be cathartic for her, having such a control over you when her grueling schedule was something she simply underwent. When her professional life had become hectic, she barely found the energy to say ‘no’ to things. She would come to your place with tense muscles and a tired smile, but never too tired to pull you into the bedroom with a meaningful look in her eyes. You were more than willing to give her that release. What were you if not at her disposal?

But you still wondered. You believed that, from time to time, it was healthy to let go of the reins. Perhaps finding a way to relinquish at least a little bit, allowing herself to unravel in your hold, could help her blow off steam too.

You had an idea, and what better time to try it than today?

Bada had started her day with an early photoshoot and ended it with a filmed interview. Once she had reached your apartment, you already had takeout food laid out on the table for her. She greeted you with a warm embrace, pressing a tender kiss on your lips before digging in.

With a mouthful of fried rice, she complained about unfriendly hairstylists and bad traffic, rubbing at her temples to will away a commencing headache. You listened intently before sharing your own frustrations with a project at work; Bada squeezed your hand, urging you to take a break from time to time. You chuckled at the irony. Look who’s talking.

“I have a day off tomorrow,” Bada said nonchalantly, scooping some leftover slices of beef into her bowl.

“Good thing I changed my sheets today.” You replied teasingly, stealing some of her beef.

Bada looked up at you with a mischievous grin.

Soon after you were on your bed entirely naked, panting and sensitive all over, as Bada hunched over you in nothing but her underwear. She had been teasing you relentlessly, dragging her fingernails up and down your thighs as she scattered hickeys across your skin, tonguing at each bruise she created.

"Tell me what you want, princess." She mouthed against the soft skin of your inner thigh, before her teeth pressed down in a lovebite.

"Want to get fucked," You managed to rasp, your fingers tangling into the locks of her hair.

She hummed thoughtfully, as if she was deciding on what to eat for dinner, and you felt the reverberations against your skin: "It has been a while, hasn't it?" Her tongue licked a long stripe along the area where your cunt and thigh met, her fingertips squeezing into your quivering legs; holding them still.

It was difficult to stay focused with Bada winding you up as much as she did, but you managed to find a stable enough voice to speak: "I- I want to try something new, though..."

"Oh?” She glanced up at you from in between your legs, her mouth slick from the kisses she had left all over you.

You nodded timidly, slowly moving to sit up. Bada followed suit, watching you curiously with her hands resting atop your thighs.

From your bedside drawer you pulled a small box, quickly opening it and placing the contents on the bed. Bada raised her eyebrows.

It was a small pink bullet vibrator, and a remote.

You watched Bada do the math in her head.

“Do you want to have both…?” You almost choked on your spit, flustering not only at her suggestion but the way she seemed incredibly interested in the prospect.

“No! I want you to… wear this, while also wearing your strap,” You muttered, feeling more embarrassed by the second. Bada’s mouth formed a small ‘o’, and you continued hurriedly: “I think it would feel good, for the both of us.”

The way Bada smiled was almost cheshire-like, and she slowly pushed you down on the bed again, a newfound eagerness in her ministrations that let you breathe a sigh of relief. “Does my baby think she can handle it?” She spoke with a cloyingly sweet lilt to her voice, and you had to swallow the bratty remark on the tip of your tongue.

Of course Bada could not conceive of herself not being able to handle it- she was still under the impression that you would be the main receiver here.

Before you could think of something to respond, Bada placed the remote and the vibrator in your hand, pressing her lips into the crook of your neck.

“Go ahead. Put it in.” She whispered, and all you could do was obey with an eagerness that left you mortified.

As her lips parted against the sensitive skin of your neck, the tip of her tongue drawing circles, your hand moved into her underwear; you rolled the bullet along the front of her heat, fingers reaching to feel the wetness of her folds. Bada hummed encouragingly, her own hands clinging onto your hips.

You moved further down, coating the bullet with her wetness and letting it aid you when you slowly pushed it into her entrance with the tip of your finger. It earned you a soft moan from Bada, who let out a shuddered breath against your collarbones.

Before you retreated your hand, you made sure to cup her into the palm of your hand, fingers gliding along her folds. You loved how wet she got, and so fast at that.

She sucked in a breath at your lingering touches, the sound turning into a mocking giggle. “Are you trying to tease me?”

You shuddered at the silent threat that hid behind her words, and shook your head bashfully. You promptly removed your hand, and Bada clicked her tongue in feigned indignance; but her eyes were still glazed with affection.

It was part of the game the both of you played, but you were still intent on reversing the roles at least a little bit.

Her hand came up to grab a tight hold on your face, fingertips digging into your cheeks as she forced you to meet her in a kiss. You made a desperate noise, immediately parting your lips for her as she kissed your breath away, tongue prodding against yours.

But she ended the kiss much too soon for your liking, and you chased after her mouth. The taller girl chuckled, pushing you flat against the bed a second time by the grip she had on your face. “Patience” is all she said before moving off the bed and rummaging through the drawer for something familiar.

The strap is a similar bright pink as the bullet, and your shuddered in anticipation. You were always mesmerized from the way Bada stepped into the harness. Everything about her body language alluded to how often she wore it; she hoisted it up and expertly tightened the belts around her hips. Bada was lean, yet soft in all the right places, and the way the straps of the harness hugged around her figure complimented the subtle formation of her abs.

Nothing was ever lost on her, so Bada shot you a lopsided grin when she noticed your hungry stare. She stalked back over to you, much too patient for your liking, and climbed back to her rightful spot between your legs. You held your breath as Bada sat up on her knees, her hands curling under your thighs before she tugged you closer to her with an almost predatory look in her eyes.

She manhandled you in place, and you leaned back on your elbows in surrender.

Her eyes raked along your figure underneath her and she leaned closer; the cold strap pressing against your navel. You subconsciously ground against it, but Bada was just beyond reach for there to be any satisfying friction.

She tilted her head playfully, a hand coming up to cradle the side of your face: “Do you want my fingers first, or can you take it?”

You sucked in your lower lip, bringing your hands to the firmness of her stomach. “I can take it,” You responded confidently.

She hummed quietly: “Of course you can,” The look Bada gave you almost turned you into putty, and she pulled your leg around her waist, tilting her hips in such a way that the near end of the strap pressed to your folds. You wanted to rub yourself against it, but you knew better than to defy Bada in a moment like this.

Her other hand moved in between the two of you and she felt at your wetness, just as you had done to her prior. Bada, however, didn’t hesitate before drawing circles against you, your head lolling to the side with a sharp breath. She brought the strap lower on purpose, digging it between your folds before coating it with your arousal, slicking it up.

You tried to stay still, but every slight roll of her hips had you jump at the sensitivity and you squeezed your eyes shut. That only made it worse however, as Bada took the opportunity to begin gliding the strap up and down against you, relishing in the shudders of your body. You weren’t looking, but you knew she was smiling.

She pressed a wet kiss to your collarbones and brought her hand to the base of her strap, angling her hips at your entrance. Teasingly, she prodded the tip of the strap against you and you were almost certain she was going to drag this out until she hoisted your hips onto her lap; pushing into you without a warning.

You gasped, clutching onto her waist as you felt the strap stretch your walls. The glide was familiar enough but you couldn’t help but feel full already. You loved the way she stuffed you.

With murmurs of encouragement, Bada grabbed a hold of your hip to push in all the way to the hilt with a sharp jerk, and the movement punched a moan out of you. You clutched onto the sheets as you spread your legs further apart, and Bada greedily crowded over you.

She pulled out until just the head of the strap was still buried in you, and gave you barely a second to breathe before slamming back inside. You dug your nails into the skin of her waist with a drawn-out whine.

The pace she set was immediately ruthless; a slow retreat before punching into you, her hip bones knocking against the back of your thighs with a slapping sound. Soon you became slack jawed, almost feeling drunk on pleasure. Bada’s hands had found purchase atop your breasts, squeezing them as her hips fucked into you, your nipples peeking from between her slender fingers.

“You take it so well,” Bada groaned, teeth gritting as she accelerated her thrusts. “It’s fucking amazing.”

If you hadn’t initiated this with a clear plan in mind, you could feel yourself come incredibly fast this way: Bada dominating you, who was so open and willing. Your head lolled to the side as the sound of skin on skin got louder.

Through the daze of pleasure coursing through your body, your hand managed to find the remote belonging to the bullet buried inside Bada. The taller girl didn’t notice what you were reaching for, much more focused on fucking you faster and harder.

Your fingers somehow managed to find the ‘on’-button, your body rocking back and forth as Bada fucked you, and you pressed on the first setting without warning.

Bada faltered with a curse on her lips as she felt the vibrator set off, hips momentarily freezing. She was still buried deep inside you, and you gasped. You could feel the light pulsing of the vibrating as well, and the thought made you lightheaded.

Bada found her footing again fast enough, an incredulous laugh falling from her lips. She brusquely grabbed a hold of your face, forcing you to look at her as she stared down with fiery eyes. She slipped back into her previously unforgiven pace, almost as if she didn’t feel the vibrator at all: “You do want to— tease me.” She stated, cooing, but almost interrupting her own words with a moan as the vibrator pulsed inside of her.

You shook your head despite the grip she had on your face: “No,” You moaned breathlessly, fighting the urge to meet her thrusts because it would surely get you to your orgasm much too fast. “Jus’ wanna see you come…”

Bada groaned at your words, leaning down to meet your lips in a messy kiss that was more tongue than anything else. She angled her hips sideways, hitting into a spot that she knew could drive you crazy, this time being no different. You moaned into her mouth and she swallowed greedily, the pace of her thrusts turning faster as you felt the vibrations through her strap.

It felt so good it was dizzying, but Bada still clearly had the upper hand here, and that was not how you wanted this to go.

You moved the vibrator one setting higher.

Bada almost keeled over at that, pressing the palms of her hands at either side of your head as her lips parted in a silent gasp. Once again her hips stuttered against you. The vibrations were stronger now: you felt it well enough through the strap buried deep inside of you.

You watched her intently through half-lidded eyes, hands moving to her hips with the remote still in your hold, tenderly caressing along her sides. Her eyes fell shut and she wetted her lips, hips jerking in small motions as she zoned in on the pleasure. Soft gasps were slipping from you at the shallow thrusts, but you did not dare to make her go faster or deeper. The sight hanging above you was much too beautiful.

Bada snapped out of a daze, as if she could read your mind, wild eyes meeting yours. With a tight hold on your thighs, she tugged you impossibly closer to her; her body falling on top of yours, chest to chest, and then she forced her strap deeper into you with a sharp thrust of her hips. You let out a shocked gasp, ankles crossing over her lower back as she hit the spot that made your toes curl. You could feel the vibrations even stronger now, and it seemed Bada was well aware.

“Should I make you come like this? With me staying still?” There was bite to her tone, and you mentally cursed yourself for the lewd moan that fell from your lips as she gave another thrust. You had to actively fight the urge of grinding down on the strap. You knew that, if you did, you would lose this game.

Bada rested her forehead against yours as she remained frozen, watching your every expression, but you noticed her breathing growing heavier by the second.

It was the sign you needed to press the button again, activating the second-to-last highest setting of the bullet.

“FUCK!” She hissed, burying her face in the crook of your neck as her hips flinched immediately.

You could hear her whine, a sound you rarely ever heard from her, and your mouth went dry.

You brought a hand to the back of her head, keeping her in place as your legs remained tight around her waist, heels digging into her lower back. The vibrating was maddening for you too, already feeling a red hot tension building up in your lower stomach, and you knew well enough from alone time how strong the third setting on the remote was.

You could tell she was still actively trying to take charge, but the soft pants against your neck betrayed her true state. Bada began thrusting in small motions, trying to get back to fucking you, but she was so clearly oversensitive from the bullet between her legs that every motion came with stutters.

While rubbing soothing circles into her scalp, you felt her thighs clench together. Bada’s hands gripped onto the sheets, and the messiness of her thrusts became all the more apparent.

Still, you wanted to push her further.

With the hold your legs had on her, you maneuvered Bada onto her back in one swift motion. She gasped in surprise and you groaned when the strap hit deeper into you, the buzzing of the vibrator sending chills along your spine.

You sat up with an arched back and looked down at her. In turn, Bada was already staring up at you with wide, frantic eyes; her face entirely red and bangs sticking to her forehead. Her lips were parted, and even though she was entirely bewildered, the adoration was easy to read from her expression. She was looking at you as if you were the only person in the universe, almost all her bite from earlier gone.

In a last ditch effort, her hands came to grab a hold of your hips but before she could start thrusting up into you, you turned on the final and highest setting before dropping the remote next to you.

You could see her eyes roll back, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. She was gritting her teeth, and from the way you pressed down on top of her you could feel the vibrations even clearer. With your palms pressed right above her breasts, you began to fuck yourself on her strap, your back arching even further as the pleasure ran through your body.

Bada squeezed her eyes shut, uncharacteristically motionless under you and still hiding her moans under her palm. You promptly wrenched her hand away from her face, pinning it next to her head and you didn’t know her pupils managed to become impossibly bigger.

“Let me hear you,” You whispered on top of her, and with a particularly hard thrust you dropped your hips down on her, making Bada’s body shake.

With that encouragement, you opened her floodgates. Her thighs squeezed together below you, and the moans that began spilling from her lips were completely obscene. She was jerking her hips once again, but no longer in an attempt to fuck you into submission; instead, she was frantically chasing after the unbearable pleasure.

Bada did not know what to do with her hands, one of them clutching onto your hip for dear life as the other balled into a fist next to her head. You angled your hips a bit differently to reach the spot that spurred you on, deftly bouncing on the strap and fucking yourself to completion.

Bada was no longer closing her eyes, staring up at you half lidded as if she never wanted to forget the sight of you on top of her. You, similarly, found her completely irresistible. Bringing your hand to her chin, you pressed your thumb to her lower lip and Bada immediately took your digit inside her mouth.

She was clearly in a daze, intoxicated from her ecstasy, because she was barely able to suck; instead dragging her tongue messily along your finger through short moans. You dug your thumb into the hollow of her cheek, and with that Bada involuntarily jerked her hips with a groan, punching up into you. It felt as if electricity ran down your spine, and you almost felt yourself orgasm right then and there.

Her hand came up to curl around your wrist, keeping your hand in place as her eyes threatened to fall shut at how overwhelmed she felt; the buzzing of the vibrator seemingly getting louder and louder as the both of you got closer to your release. The redness of her cheeks had cascaded down to her collarbones and her eyes were uncharacteristically wet.

You pulled your thumb away, Bada whining at that once again, but you instead grabbed a hold of her face; your wet thumb smearing her own saliva across her cheek, keeping your pace on the strap steady.

“You wanna come?” You asked softly, the delicateness in your voice betraying how much of a novice you were to this dynamic.

Bada, who still seemed to be coming to terms with the switch of your positions, could only nod, though her eyes said it all: she was completely desperate.

You began gyrating your hips at that, spurring yourself closer and closer to your orgasm with heavy pants. You were feeling the familiar coil in your lower stomach, and your body was begging for release.

“Come with me,” You pleaded, and Bada tightened her hold on your wrist as she took your index- and middle finger into her mouth, moaning deeply around your digits.

Something about that sight did you in. With a few more hard drops of your hips, the sound of your ass slamming down onto the top of her thighs filling the room, you came hard.

You dropped your head with a loud moan, fireworks coursing through your body and thighs shaking from the exertion of keeping yourself steady on top of her. In tandem with your orgasm, you felt Bada jerk violently underneath you.

She threw her head back, a silent moan stuck on her lips as your fingers slipped out of her mouth, but her grip on your wrist only tightened. Her knees came off the bed, and soon enough she was panting from the overstimulation of the vibrator still pulsing inside of her, while you were still grinding out your orgasm on her strap.

You had half a mind to grab the remote, your own motions coming to a halt when the sensitivity became too much, and turned off the bullet.

With a lot of effort, you managed to hoist yourself off the strap; hissing at the loss of fullness. Then, you dropped yourself next to Bada, who was trying to catch her breath, thighs absentmindedly rubbing together as she could still feel the phantom sensations of the violent vibrations from the bullet.

Bada turned her head to look at you, and before you could say anything she leaned over to kiss you deeply; head tilted and lips parted. Your hand came up to cradle the side of her face as her own arms circled around your waist, pulling you close to her.

“Thank you,” She muttered against your lips, her voice laced with something deeper as she scattered lazy kisses along your jaw, and you hummed in contentment.

“How are you feeling?” You asked, your fingers blindly searching for the belts of her harness.

“Tired…” She murmured, and you had to bite back a laugh. Now she knew how you felt after each time she had her way with you.

Finally, you found the straps of her harness and began to unbuckle them, helping her slip out of it. Subsequently, you lowered your hand down her panties and Bada huffed a breath, still sensitive.

You promptly removed the bullet and fixed her underwear back in place with a pat right on her crotch, purposefully forcing a reaction from her. She gasped once again, playfully glaring at you- or at least, attempting to do so. The taller girl was already on the brink of dozing off by the looks of it.

“Go to sleep,” You whispered, enveloping the both of you in a blanket with a final peck to her mouth; Bada pursing her lips a beat too late.

“You’ve got something else waiting for you in the morning…” Bada slurred with her eyes already shut.

#bada lee x reader #swf2 #bada lee #street woman fighter 2 #bada lee smut #dalla!writes #girlies....... . . i am sorry for whatever this is #2 out of 4 works ending with bada knocked tf out #i'm becoming a one trick pony

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lendeah · 3 months

Text

Wounded Love

Summary: Astarion and Tav are both struggling with their emotions as they journey through the Shadowlands. When Astarion gets injured, Tav takes it upon herself to nurse him back to health, in more ways than one.

Pairing: Astarion x Fem!Reader.

Word Count: 5.3k

Tags: Astarion gets hurt, Emotional Constipation, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Massage, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Tav takes care of Astarion, sub!Atarion, Light Dom/sub, bordering minimal really, Porn With Plot, Biting, Blood.

a/n: this is an old draft, so forgive me if there are any typos! Love ya🤍

WARNING! +18 CONTENT, MINORS DNI

It had been a stray hex, a capricious twist of magic that had hurt him, as told by the doctor responsible for his care in the Last Light Inn. The tendrils of the hex had woven an intricate spell, rendering him unconscious. Right now, as his chest rises and falls rhythmically, you feel something like pain and protectiveness stir in your chest. Although you are aware that your connection is currently purely physical, you can't help but feel a flutter every time your eyes meet or a tightening in your chest whenever he faces danger.

Looking at his peaceful sleeping form, you reach out to touch his hair, keeping it out of the way of his eyes. Your fingers trace the contours of his face and down his jawline. You wonder what kind of dreams come to him in these tender moments. Dreams you would love to share. To know all the things that go through the elf's mind.

His eyes suddenly open, and you get slightly startled, your hand hanging mid-air.

"What are you doing?" He raises one judging eyebrow, and squints at you through his eyelashes, but doesn't move out of your touch. His lips are curled into a small, tight grimace, probably still in pain from his recent wound.

You reach for the mug of water near the bed. "You look so peaceful when you sleep. Maybe you should spend more time like that. I like you way more when you are quiet," you say, a teasing tone lacing your words.

Astarion rolls his eyes, but he's also smiling a little.

"Yeah? Well, if you're so keen on me sleeping why not do me a favor and knock me out? The pain is unbearable as of right now," he says, but his voice is still soft and quiet, almost as if talking is painful You know there is a bit of truth there. He takes the mug and gulps down the water, then sets the piece back down on the bedside table.

He does appear miserable, even though his beauty remains as striking as ever. His eyes, usually filled with energy and mirth, seem drained of life, carrying heavy bags underneath. Though he is already pale, right now he looks paler than ever, and even his distinctive white locks, typically immaculate, fall disheveled and unkempt over his shoulders.

Your chest tightens at the sight, a vivid flashback of watching him fall during the combat flooding your mind. One moment, he was bravely battling alongside Karlach and the next, he was sprawled on the ground, so unnaturally still that it hinted at something had gone fatally wrong. The memory of that moment lingers—the scream tearing from your throat, the frantic dash to reach him—where the world outside, the lurking shadow monsters, and your companions; all became a blur, drowned out by the overwhelming fear of losing him.

You release a shaky breath, and try to appear nonchalant "Well, I happened to leave my Warhammer outside, but if you give me a moment, we could arrange it," you say, a hint of playful sarcasm masking the genuine worry beneath.

Astarion snorts. "Please, I don't need the Warhammer. Just a firm slap should do it." He says while shifting on his bed.

The movement makes the bedsheets rustle and reveals the bandages encasing his torso. His chest had sustained the most damage, with a deep cut that refused to heal and oozed a dark, murky liquid.

"You were out for a tenday," you inform him. "A stray hex hit you during combat and left you out cold. The wound didn't close, even with your vampiric and elf powers, so it had to be taken care of manually."

"Well, that's just great." Astarion mutters. Then, he speaks up again, this time seemingly with some concern, "I'm alright, right? I'm not going to die? I mean, I know I can't die, but..."

You chuckle softly at his words, a mix of fondness and relief washing over you. "Not under my watch. I am an incredible healer, after all".

"And quite humble, at that," Astarion mutters, but there is a small smile on his face. Then, there is a beat of silence, as both of you take a moment to collect your thoughts.

Astarion's smile fades, and his eyes search yours for something, a reassurance perhaps. You can see the vulnerability hidden beneath his usual facade of confidence and charm. It's rare to see him like this, stripped of his usual bravado. Leaning closer, you reach out again to gently brush a strand of white hair behind his pointy ear.

"Hey," you say softly, placing your hand on his cheek. "You're going to be alright. We took care of your wounds, and Halsin says you just need some time to recover." You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you reach out and gently grasp his hand, intertwining your fingers. "You scared me, you know," you admit softly. "Seeing you fall like that... I thought I had lost you."

Astarion seems to freeze in place at that, as if he is unsure of how to react. You chuckle nervously, realizing you may have unintentionally crossed an unspoken boundary. Emotions are not your forte, after all. For a moment he simply stares at your intertwined hands. Then, he looks up to meet your gaze, and you see a flicker of some unreadable emotion there.

"Lost me? Come now, you should know by now it takes more than a measly hex to finish me off." His tone aims for nonchalance, but there is an edge to it that gives away his vulnerability. You offer a small, sheepish smile.

"Yes, well, you didn't die. So quit that moping and drink your water, or I'll let Shadowheart take a crack at healing you."

"From my point of view, this just means you just have to keep a closer eye on me from now on,"

You let out a small sigh and give him an exasperated look "I think I have done my fair share of caring for some time."

A look of realization crosses his face as if a puzzle piece has finally fallen into place. "Wait, did you stay here for the entire tenday?" he murmurs, his eyes widening with surprise and curiosity.

You clear your throat awkwardly "I mean, you were unconscious. Somebody had to keep guard, keep tabs on you, change your bandages..." you say, with a casual wave of your hand "Plus, I wanted to make sure you were alright. I'm not a complete monster."

But you are aware that it's not the whole truth. The real reason is that the thought of him lying in bed, wounded and vulnerable, causes a pain in your chest that you don't want to acknowledge.

Astarion's eyes widen slightly at your words, surprise mingling with something else. Gratitude, perhaps? It's hard to tell with him sometimes, but there's a softness in his gaze that tells you he appreciates your presence more than he lets on.

"Well, I suppose I should thank you then," he says, his voice softer than before. "I wouldn't have expected you to stick around."

You shrug nonchalantly "Had to make sure you didn't get yourself killed again," You reply teasingly, attempting to lighten the mood.

Astarion chuckles a sound that warms your chest. "Ah, so it was purely for selfish reasons then."

"Of course, can't have our token charming vampire biting the dust just yet"

Astarion rolls his eyes, a smile on his face "Charming vampire, am I? You really know just how to flatter someone."

"You're also our only rogue," you reply.

Astarion smiles. "So not only am I charming, but I'm essential too. Guess the group just couldn't do without me. Perhaps you should write me a thank you note instead."

You raise an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of your lips. "Oh, don't worry. I'll be sure to draft up a heartfelt ode to your indispensability."

His smile widens, the playful back and forth easing the tension that lingered between you. It feels good to see him like this, even if he's still recovering from his injuries.

You've been through so much together, fighting against the darkness that threatens your world. And in those moments of battle and chaos, there's a strange comfort in he familiarity of this banter, with its playful jabs and sly remarks. You do this routine a hundred times, dancing around each other's feelings and skirting the edges of any true intimacy. And yet, it's still nice to pretend sometimes. Still nice to pretend there's nothing underneath all the playful words, that maybe this is all you need. But for once, when you are looking at him, you want to reach out to him. To tenderly kiss his forehead, rest your head on his strong shoulders, and be enveloped in his embrace and not just for physical pleasure. But you know better than to act on those desires. He has been so wounded in the past and it's not just the physical scars that linger. His past is a complicated web of pain, betrayal, and mistrust. You've seen the way his eyes darken when certain topics are brought up or how he flinches away from certain touches. So you will wait patiently until he opens up when he is ready, relishing in these small moments in the meantime.

"Well, charming vampire, it looks like I'll have to find some more enemies for you to sink your fangs into for breakfast," you say with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

Astarion grins, a little wolfishly with his fangs on display, "Oh, I think I know just who to take my fangs to," he says, his eyes appraising your neck.

You feel a shiver run down your spine at the intensity of his gaze. You roll your eyes and smirk. "Oh please, Astarion. I'm not that easy to sink your fangs into."

He leans forward, with a wicked smile on his lips "Oh, is that so?" Astarion says smoothly. A twinkle of desire flashes in his red eyes as he speaks, which only ignites your own thirst. You feel your heartbeat quickening, breath hitching in your chest. "You want to put that to the test?" His voice is lower now, a bit of a growl starting to creep into his tone.

You can feel the bed's cool, smooth sheets against your skin as you lean forward, your chest brushing against Astarion's. The energy between your bodies feels like a tangible force, one that you can almost reach out and touch. His face is so close, his red eyes bright and mouth slightly open, showing off two sharp fangs that would terrify most people but only send shivers of anticipation down your spine. There's something primal in the way you're looking at each other, and you can't help but feel a familiar wave of excitement and fear wash over you. Astarion's eyes flicker to your lips for a moment. You are waiting, wanting him to make the first move, your breath shallow and quick.

"Well? Still think you can bite me that easily?" you quip, teasingly, although your heart is pounding so loud you are sure it's deafening for him.

A mischievous smirk plays on Astarion's lips, his red eyes sparkling with amusement. Despite his injury, he moves gracefully and with supernatural quickness, catching you off guard. In the blink of an eye, you are pinned to the bed beneath him. Your back sinks into the soft mattress as Astarion's weight presses down on your body. His left arm is pressing into the skin of your collarbones, as his other hand holds your wrists above your head. Every touch from him sends electric jolts through your body.

Astarion's breath is hot against your skin as he leans in closer, his lips grazing your ear. "Oh, I am more than capable of biting you," he whispers, his voice husky with desire. "I might even leave you with a few bruises," he adds, his voice an intimate rasp that sends shivers down your spine.

Your heart races at his words and the thought of what he could do to you, at the weight pressing down on you.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Astarion murmurs against your skin, his lips trailing down your neck and leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

You let out a soft gasp as he nibbles on your skin, causing goosebumps to rise along your arms. His touch is electric and every nerve in your body feels like it's on fire. Without hesitation, Astarion's fangs sink into the soft flesh of your neck, and you let out a gasp as a mix of pleasure and sharp icy pain courses through you. You can feel yourself growing lightheaded as he feeds from you, his fangs sinking deeper and his grip on your wrists loosening as he savors the taste of your blood. The sensation sends waves of ecstasy coursing through your veins.

Time seems to stand still as you remain locked in his embrace, your bodies tangled together on the bed. As he finally withdraws his fangs from your neck, he lingers for a moment, his lips brushing against the wounds he's left behind. You can feel the slight throbbing where his teeth had punctured skin seconds ago. A soft sigh escapes your lips as you feel him press his forehead against yours, his breath fanning against your skin.

You giggle a little, still coming down from the high of vampire venom.

"I will never get tired of that," The words slipped from his lips in a breathy murmur, one that was filled with awe and contentment.

"All it takes is a little blood to make our wounded vampire happy," You tease, giving him a small peck. His lips still taste a bit metallic, but you don't care in the slightest.

Astarion chuckles, "Ah, darling, we both know I am not the only one who enjoys that…"

He presses his body against your own, his lips suddenly ravishing yours with an intensity that steals your breath. The heat of his mouth sears through you, igniting every nerve and sending primal shivers down your spine. You cling to him desperately, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer until your bodies meld into one and your hands tangle in the soft curls of his hair. At this moment, nothing else exists except for the electric chemistry between you, overwhelming and all-consuming.

Out of nowhere, he recoils and lets out a sharp hiss. Concerned, you examine the bandage on his chest and notice a small black spot forming. "Oh shit," you curse under your breath.

You quickly slide out from under him and stand next to the bed. "Lie down," you tell him firmly, "I'll take care of it."

"I'm okay," Astarion lies, but complies, lying down on the bed with a sense of resignation. The soft sheets crinkle beneath his weight as he settles into a comfortable position. You hurriedly gather supplies before returning to his side, adrenaline and concern fueling your actions. With skilled hands, you begin tending to his wound as Astarion watches on with curious eyes.

"If you keep ogling me like that, I may just end up with a hole in my head," you quip.

The corners of both your mouths turn up in matching grins. The intensity of your gaze locks and it feels like the air is alive with electricity. With precision and care, you unwrap the bandage and clean the wound, hands steady despite your worry. As you finish dressing the wound, you can't help letting out a sigh of relief after realizing it was just a small tear, nothing too serious.

It's then that you notice you have been straddling his body over the crisp white sheets of the hospital bed and your cheeks flush furiously.

Astarion looks at you with a cheeky smirk, "Something the matter, dear?" he asks, his voice low and sultry.

You can feel your face turning even brighter red, but you try to shrug it off. "No, nothing's wrong."

Astarion lets out a low laugh, enjoying your flustered state. "Oh, I beg to differ," he teases, sitting up and leaning against the headboard.

"Shut up," you mutter, trying to keep your embarrassment at bay.

Astarion chuckles softly, a warm sound that makes your heart flutter. Why does he always make your heart flutter?

"Well, I have seen you in way more compromised positions than the one you are in right now," he says, a hint of mischief in his tone. "You're not one to be shy."

You can't help but blush even more at his words. His hand starts caressing your thigh, and your breath hitches slightly.

"I must say," Astarion continues with a sly grin, "I've never had such skilled hands tending to me before."

You roll your eyes at his flirting. "Well, I have been trained in basic care since I was young," you reply with a smile playing on your lips.

He raises an eyebrow in surprise. "And how else are you planning on taking care of me, exactly? Because I remain deeply wounded." he says with a mock pout.

A mischievous smirk tugs at the corners of your mouth as you reply, "You'll just have to wait and see."

Meeting his intense gaze, you can feel the heat rising to your cheeks. A sudden spark of inspiration ignites within you and you eagerly suggest, "How about a massage? I have been told I am really good at those."

He raises an eyebrow, "A massage, huh? It doesn't sound too bad."

A chuckle bubbles up from your chest and you swat him lightly on the shoulder. "Only 'not too bad'? I'll have you know, I'm excellent."

Astarion smirks, "Prove it then," he challenges, stretching back onto the bed, arms folded behind his head in a display of pure ease.

Squaring your shoulders in determination, you stand from the bed and walk to the other side of the room. You rummage through a drawer filled with various herbs and oils until you find what you're looking for - a small vial of calming lavender oil you had seen Halsin storing a few days ago. You just hope he won't miss it too much.

"You better not fall asleep on me," you call out teasingly as you make your way back towards him, shaking the vial in your hand for emphasis.

In response, Astarion chuckles lowly and flips onto his stomach without a word, waiting for your touch. The scent of lavender fills the room as you rub your hands together, warming up the oil before applying it to his skin.

As your hands start kneading into his tight shoulder muscles, he releases a sigh that is half groan, half purr. "Your touch is simply divine," he moans, his voice low and husky. "You really do possess a gift for caressing."

With a proud smile, you continue to massage his shoulders and neck, feeling the tension ease away. His eyes are closed, lost in the pleasure of the moment. Your heart swells with happiness to see him so content and relaxed.

You lower your hands slowly, massaging along the curve of his spine and drawing another low moan from him. The rhythm of your touch, the scent of lavender, and the quiet of the room come together to create a sense of calm and tranquility. You let your fingers brush against the edges of his scars, caressing them tenderly. Instead of flinching away, he leans into your touch, allowing you to continue your gentle exploration.

You continue to knead his muscles, working out any remaining knots and tension. And then, you lower your head and press a soft kiss to the bare skin of his shoulder, right above the bandage. Astarion lets out a surprised gasp at the unexpected touch of your lips. He turns his head slightly, his eyes opening to meet yours.

"Can't resist taking advantage, can you?" he teases with a small grin.

"I simply relish having you at my mercy for once," you whisper against his spine, taking in the sweet scent of lavender oil on his skin.

Astarion's lips curve into a playful smirk at your words. "Oh, do you now?" he asks in a husky voice, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

You nod confidently, trailing light kisses down his spine and leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. "I always enjoy being in control," you reply, your tone laced with teasing.

He lets out a low chuckle, "And I always relish when you take charge," he purrs, his eyes closing in satisfaction.

With a last kiss, you gently pat his side.

"Now you turn for me."

Astarion eagerly flips onto his back, his eyes shining with anticipation. As you straddle him, you notice he has been affected by your previous ministrations, his hardness pressing against your core. A triumphant smile tugs at your lips. Astarion merely smirks up at you, not bothering to hide his interest.

"Seems like your skills extend beyond basic care," he teases, his voice dropping to a husky whisper.

You choose to ignore his comment and instead focus on the task at hand. Pouring more lavender oil onto your hands, you begin to knead his pectoral muscles, applying firm and steady pressure, avoiding the bandage covering it. Your hands roam over his chest with practiced ease until they find their way to his abdomen. You glide your fingers over each taut muscle, taking delight in the way his body responds under your touch.

"Enjoying yourself?" Astarion teases with a smirk.

A warm rush of joy spreads through you as you trace your fingers along the curves of his navel, softly giggling. His hands instinctively tighten around your hips, a desperate attempt to regain some control of the situation. A sly, self-satisfied smirk spreads across your lips as you slowly slip your hand lower down, teasing the sensitive skin just beneath the waistband of his trousers, towards the source of his growing excitement.

His breath hitches at your touch, his eyes now wide with surprise. "Oh, I see what's happening here," he says, a teasing smile playing on his lips. "You're getting into this caretaker role, aren't you?"

Your smirk deepens as you gently massage his hips, ignoring the suggestive implications of his words.

"I did say I'd take good care of you, didn't I?" you reply nonchalantly, as I continue with my performance.

Astarion lets out a soft chuckle and reaches up to cup your cheek affectionately.

"You certainly did," he murmurs, gazing up at you in admiration. "But what about you? Who takes care of you, dear?" he mumbles.

Your heart fills with sadness, at the thought of him only thinking of sex as an exchange, more than a pleasurable thing. You lean in to press a soft kiss into his neck, feeling his skin cold under your touch.

"Just trust me," you whisper, voice low and sultry, "I want to make you feel good." His breath hitches again, and you can feel him growing harder beneath your touch. "Trust me," you repeat softly.

You press your lips against his, softly at first, then deeper as he responds with equal fervor. Your hand swiftly opens his trousers, digging inside to grab his hardness, and starts a rhythmic movement, gliding up and down the full length of his member. As it reaches the tip, you twist your wrist slightly, eliciting a whine from deep within his chest. It's a sound you've never heard from him before, one that sends shivers down your and makes your core throb.

His body tenses beneath you, the feeling of your hand wrapped around him drawing a low curse from his lips. He arches into your touch, his grip on your hips tightening as he struggles to remain composed. He presses his lips against yours, the kiss becoming more fervent and demanding. His hands grip your hips tightly, pulling you closer to him, as if he can't get enough.

"Easy," you coo softly against his ear, an intimate tone wrapped around the single word as if it were a promise. Astarion's hands flex on your hips repeatedly, fingers digging into your flesh in a bid to ground himself. "Let me take good care of you," you assure him again, your voice low and breathy against his skin. His body tenses under your touch as he lets out a groan.

His breaths come in ragged gasps, punctuated by small moans of pleasure. "Faster," he pleads with a desperation that ignites a fire within you.

"My beautiful baby, so good for me," you murmur into his ear, your voice rough with desire and adoration. Without hesitation, you bring the pointed tip of his ear between your lips, savoring the delicate contours as you run your tongue along its edges. His body shudders in response, a high whine escaping from his throat as he gives in to your touch.

"Oh, sweet hells," he breathes, his voice barely a whisper.

You release his ear and lay back to take a good look at him, and you smile to yourself when you see his disveleshed hair, and red eyes hooded. And then, without hesitation, you sink down between his parted legs as your lips part and encircle his throbbing member. The taste of him fills your mouth, a mixture of salt and skin and something uniquely his. You take him fully into your mouth, relishing the sounds of his moans and gasps as you move your lips up and down his length. You swirl your tongue around him, teasing and coaxing every delicious sensation from him. His hips thrust upward, and his hands grip your hair, pulling you closer, but you resist, teasing him with your tongue. Your own body is humming with need and desire, but you push it aside to focus completely on him.

You slowly remove him from your mouth, teasingly drawing out the moment. "Beg for me," you whisper seductively, reveling in the power you hold over him.

Astarion's breath hitches as you pull away, and he meets your eyes with a mix of surprise and desire. He moans a deep, guttural sound that vibrates through you, and his hips buck upward, thrusting into the air. His hardness stands tall and proud against your palm, straining for release. It’s slick with your spit, and with a reddish hue that reveals his recent feeding. So damn beautiful.

"Please," he pleads "Please, please," he tries to repeat, but his words come out in a garbled, unintelligible moan as you take him deep into your throat and swallow hard, feeling his member pulse and throb slightly in your mouth.

His entire body trembles, his breaths quickening to the point where they are almost non-existent. His hands clamp onto your hair, yanking you towards him with a savage strength as he thrusts relentlessly, pushing himself deeper and deeper inside of you until it feels like he might tear you apart.

"Oh gods," he cries, arching his back and groaning in a way that makes you want to keep going. "That's so good, hells."

His words only drive you further, and you begin to pick up the pace, slobbering and sucking on him like a starving man to a feast. His body tenses as his release approaches, and you can feel him pulsing in your mouth.

"Please, please, oh my god" His words are now a jumbled mess, spewing out of his mouth in a frenzied stream. His eyes roll back into his head, a sign that he is close to releasing everything he has been holding in. "I can't... I can't take much more," he whispers hoarsely, "Please, please, let me cum. Fuck, I need to cum."

With this plea, you can feel the surge of his release, and your body responds with an exhilaration that threatens to overwhelm you. You can feel your body responding to his, your own arousal growing, and you rub yourself through your clothes, imagining the feel of him inside you. But that can wait - right now he needs you to take care of him. It's clear he's getting close now - his breaths are shallow, his moans low and desperate, his hips thrusting upwards in short, sharp jerks. With a final cry, you feel him tense, his entire body convulsing under your touch. You swallow hard, feeling the hot liquid spurt into your mouth, coating your tongue and throat in his essence. You can't help but groan in pleasure as it fills you, and you continue to suck and slurp, greedily devouring every drop he has to offer. His hips thrust upwards, bucking wildly as wave after wave of pleasure washed over him. You continue to suck and stroke him, milking every last drop from his throbbing length.

Finally, he goes lax, his body slack and exhausted while his breath comes in ragged gasps. You gently remove his now limp member from your mouth, wiping the remnants of him from the corners with your thumb. As he comes down from his high, his body relaxes onto the pillow, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. You lay next to him, your heart filled with a sense of contentment and satisfaction. You trace patterns on his chest with your fingertips, feeling the rise and fall of his breaths as he continues to recover from his release.

A spark ignites in his eyes as they lock onto yours, and for the first time, you see a glimmer of something. There is a tenderness and adoration in his gaze as if you are the most precious and captivating being in all of Faerûn. You smile and sprawl over his healthy shoulder, looking up at him.

"And here I thought I was the master at lovemaking," he teases. "Ever so surprising, my dear."

"Oh, you're easy to please, my love. But I do admit, you taste absolutely divine." You giggle and place a soft kiss on his lips.

He chuckles deeply, running his fingers through your hair. A moment of silence passes between you before you find the courage to break it with a quiet question, "Did you truly enjoy it?"

Conversation after sex is rare for you, but something about today feels different, almost intimate. Like something has shifted, an unspoken understanding or connection.

There is a pause, and Astarion looks at you, seeming a bit awkward. He appears to be having some sort of internal struggle at the moment. But then, he relaxes a bit and nods his head.

"Yes, I did," he says. He smiles at you. "It was... mediocre. Which is quite good for your usual performance"

You raise an eyebrow in mock offense. "Excuse me? You were practically begging me to cum moments ago!"

"Was that begging?" he asks innocently, "I thought I was just doing a demonstration" His eyes twinkled with amusement as he looked at you, his lips curling up into a smirk.

"Oh, really?" You raise an eyebrow playfully. "Well, you sure seemed to be enjoying it"

Astarion chuckled lightly, running his fingers through your hair. "I suppose I did, you know me, I can't resist a good show. And in case you're wondering, that was definitely begging. You just have a unique way of making me forget my manners."

You snuggle closer to him, basking in the softness of his skin. "I'm glad I can keep things interesting for you."

And then, to your surprise, he silently embraces you in a warm hug, pulling you close to his chest. The feeling of his strong arms encircling your frame is unfamiliar but comforting at the same time. You have never held each other in such an intimate way before, but in this moment it feels like the most natural thing in the world.

As the two of you lay intertwined and content, you can feel a sense of peace wash over both of you. For once, no worries or fears are clouding your minds - just the simple pleasure of being together in this moment. You close your eyes and let out a satisfied sigh, wondering if this newfound closeness is a sign of things to come, and the thought brings a smile to your lips, before drifting off into a peaceful sleep wrapped in each other's embrace.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 fanfic prompt #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 tav #astarion x tav #baldurs gate fanfiction #astarion ancunin #bg3 fanfiction #astarion baldurs gate #astarion fanfic #astarion x reader

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iluvpjo · 2 months

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HII !!

HEAR ME OUT. Charlie is definitely a thigh guy,he loveeeees to just lay on ur thighs and kiss them and theyre js so squishy and UGH.

I think he'd be very sweet in general like if you had scars (Sh or just normal scars) he's definitely kiss them and tell you how beautiful they are

REMEMBER TO EAT ENOUGH AND STAY HYDRATED !! 🫂

-🌻

𝓣𝓱𝓲𝓰𝓱 𝓖𝓾𝔂

Synopsis: Charlie being a thigh guy, basically headcanons but also not rlly ??? Idk what this is tbh

Warning(s): IT GETS NSFW! MDNI, thigh stuff, talks abt scars, talks abt sh (in its own seperate bit so ur able to avoid it, I’ll put a warning there)

Pairing: Charlie Bushnell x fem reader (could be seen as GN except for one part where he calls u a sweet girl but you can just imagine otherwise if u wish!)

Word count: 528 words

Notes: I tried to write this n tumblr closed on me n didn’t save my draft ARGH 😭 but I’m so sorry I been away for a moment.. on an unrelated note last night I dreamt abt cuddling w Charlie n omfg

ALSO I’m so sorry it’s a lil short ahhh

Come find me on AO3!

Send me a request! Here’s my req rules!

(NSFW-ish!) Charlie whenever he sits beside you will always have a hand on you wether it be on your shoulder or on your knee, or other times where he’ll be squishing you’re thigh under the table in public somewhere. He of course does this at home too, and occasionally if he feels like it sometimes his hand will wander upwards. He still likes to do it nonsexually though, squeezing softly whenever he wants your attention.

(NSFW!) He would love to kiss your thighs while laying between your legs, often using it to tease you and not touch you where you need it the most. He also gets a little distracted, the feeling of your warm cushy thighs near his face can easily make him lose time. Charlie will kiss softly at your thighs, but he will also nip them gently too between his teeth just to watch you yelp and whine.

He would definitely get super hard from eating you out, I mean just in general, but especially when you cum undone and you squeeze your thighs around his head. Fuckkk he’d be in heaven, and he’d let you know that too when he dives back in for round two and has you repeating the same actions over and over. He will do it until you tell him to calm down, but if you don’t then I’m sure he’d be going on forever and ever until something inevitably disrupts the two of you.

(Scar stuff, more specifically sh) If he noticed you had scars on your thighs he wouldn’t be quick to point them out, maybe he’d spend a little extra time kissing over the marks or trailing them gently with his finger tips if they were healed. If they weren’t healed fully though maybe he’d ask about them, cooing softly for you to talk to him about what happened to make you do it. He’d leave it if you didn’t wanna talk about it though, simply comforting you with gentle kisses and cuddles.

“Don’t look at them..” You’d say, perhaps being a little insecure about them when his eyes would linger a little too long on your thighs, and Charlie would smile up at you dumbly before placing soft pecks to them and saying “Why not? Your thighs are so beautiful.” And you’d grow a little flustered. “No, they’re not, my scars-“ he wouldn’t even let you finish the thought about them, because he’d butt in and say “Your scars are beautiful sweet girl, I ‘dunno what you’re talking about..” and then his voice would get muffled n a lil quieter as he gets lost in the feeling of ur soft plushy thighs and he keeps leaving kisses all over them, his hands gripping at them like they’re his favourite thing in the world (and they are, after you as a whole of course.)

#luke castellan smut #luke castellan x reader smut #percy jackson smut #percy jackson x reader smut #charlie bushnell x reader #charlie bushnell x reader smut #charlie bushnell x you #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #charlie bushnell #🌷 anon

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neuvistar · 11 months

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LUST WITHIN.

— featuring ┊jing yuan, dan heng, gepard x f!reader (all separate)

— warnings / content warnings ┊cw: pregnancy sex, mentions of pregnancy, not proofread, they’re so gentle w u foreals! somewhat!, slight titsucking oop, dirty talk, slight slightttt vaginal fingering, u were just feeling a lil horny guys dw abt it, use of nicknames, overall suggestive content | 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

— a/n ┊hihi! i had like a few brain farts n i was working on like 3 fics at the same time that wasn’t a good idea but well i was half asleep while writing this so it’s kinda messy + i still have a lot of drafts so some requests might come in late whoopsies pls b patient

✦ JING YUAN

“i’m gonna get you pregnant, sweetheart.”

you stared at him in disbelief, eyes travelling down to your huge belly and then back to his gaze, tilting your head. “.. but i’m already—“

“twins, angel. i’ll give you twins.”

jing yuan tried his hardest to hold himself back, he loved just how sensitive you were.. squirming underneath him as you flinched at the most slightest touch from him, the tips of his fingers running up your back as you felt your legs shake every slam of his hips. you gasped at the feeling of his thrusts gently rubbing against your walls, careful not to hurt you or cause any discomfort. you were desperate for him, he knew that. jing yuan kept your knees pinned on the mattress licking his lips at the sight of his cum seeping out of your drenched cunt, savouring in the feeling of your insides pulsing around him. a white ring was glazed around his cock, not wasting any time to interest two fingers inside.

“yeah.. you like it when i fuck you like this, angel? look at you.. you’re creamin’ all over my cock sweetheart..” he was absolutely drenched in sweat, his bangs sticking to his face as he pushed your hair away from your face. “let me see you, dove. let me see just how well i fuck you.” your pussy throbbed at his words, choked moans leaving your throat as you could almost feel every inch of his dick inside of you. he was so careful with you.. the tip of his cock kissing your cervix at every thrust he gave you, deep and loving. jing yuan brought a hand to your belly, gently smoothing the fabric over it as his thumb drifted over your belly button. “m’ gonna give you another, dove. this pretty pussy is too good for me to waste just like that, right?”

he grunted as your cunt clenched around him again, feeling your warmness around him. he absolutely lost it, groaning once more before picking up the speed of his thrusts, bringing his large hand to squeeze your throat, the other finding itself on your waist. “fuck.. good, good girl. such a good girl baby.. takin’ my cock so well.” his touch.. drove you absolutely crazy. you were pregnant, you were a lot more sensitive than usual and that didn’t make it any better.. your mouth hung open in pleasure, you were losing your mind over how much pleasure your dearest husband was giving you. at this point, he might ruin you instead of giving you another baby.

✦ DAN HENG

honestly dan heng refused to the idea at first, not because he didn’t want to but instead he didn’t want to cause you any discomfort, he didn’t want to hurt you. but how could he say no to you when you’re tugging at his clothes like that, eyes filled with lust begging for him to fuck you.. cute little nipples poking out of your shirt as they rubbed against his arm. fuck. he really couldn’t say no to you. dan heng rammed his hips against yours, what were you doing to him? he was getting desperate, desperate at the thought of filling you up once more. once you clenched around him for the first time, he almost came immediately. he really can’t restrain himself whenever he’s with you, determined to fill you up with his load until he was absolutely sure you would bear another child.

your entire body throbbed with the immense heat and lust, each whimper that left your lips were like music to his ears, he wanted more. he wanted to hear you cry out his name. a low breathy sigh erupted from his throat, his lips now on your neck, kissing and nibbling roughly as his kisses on your neck were filled with lust and heat you hadn’t felt in so long. you inhaled sharply, running your fingers through his hair, tugging at it gently. you arched your back slightly at how deep he was inside your cunt, stretching you out more than he should. “d—dan heng.. s’ good..” you were nearing your orgasm, yanking his hair more roughly now. he caressed your stomach ever so gently with his palm, a string of saliva following his lips, connected from your neck marking you just where he wanted.

his fingers sink onto the flesh of your hips, kissing the shell of your ear as he came, his cum painting your cunt white. the overwhelming pleasure was flowing through every part of your body, but you still.. wanted more than you got. dan heng watches your his cum leave your pussy, curling his fingers inside your cunt as he still kept himself inside you, thrusting his hips against yours again as an attempt to shove his load back inside. he couldn’t help but chuckle. “sorry, it was about to make a huge mess. can’t be having that now, can we?”

✦ GEPARD

gepard had his hands on your overstimulated breasts, his mouth watering at the sight of it. he prayed to every star in the sky, thanking every single one, thanking them for letting him marry such a beautiful woman like you. just look at you, all laid out on the bed with your huge belly there for him to see.. wet cunt displayed for him as well, his cum making a huge mess on the mattress. gepard sucked on your sensitive nipples, the warmth of his mouth had your eyes rolling to the back of your head, cumming yourself as it added to the mess on the mattress. he knew how to make you feel good, he knew just how to pinpoint your weak spots. he sucked and lapped at your nipple, then did the same to the other. he brought his hand down to fuck you with his fingers, plunging his digits into your drooling wet cunt as he curled it almost immediately, thrusting into the sweetest spots inside. “you’re incredible princess,” he mumbled against your skin, licking his lips. “you’ll have me wrapped around your finger at this rate.”

that was all that left his mouth before giving your lips a quick peck as he grabbed your hips, pounding into you until the tip reached and brushed against your deepest areas, a red hue on his cheeks as his hands spreads the fat of your ass, throwing his head back at how good you felt. you felt as if you were already so so full, his huge cock brushed against the sweetest areas as gepard fucks you deep, deep as ever. the blonde could feel just how tight your walls clenched around him each gentle pound, gripping your hips and angled your body a certain angle. your nails scratched against his back. the bed creaked as he hissed, teeth clenched as a few swear words slipped from his lips. he intertwined his fingers with yours, his panting increasing as his chest heaved up and down burying his face in your shoulder, a loud yet cute moan leaving his lips. “you feel so good princess.. mm.. you want another baby? i’ll.. i’ll give you one. i’m sure of it..—“

oh yeah. gepard is most definitely gonna give you another baby.

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mostlysignssomeportents · 9 months

Text

No, Uber's (still) not profitable

Going to Defcon this weekend? I'm giving a keynote, "An Audacious Plan to Halt the Internet's Enshittification and Throw it Into Reverse," on Saturday at 12:30pm, followed by a book signing at the No Starch Press booth at 2:30pm!

https://info.defcon.org/event/?id=50826

Bezzle (n): 1. "the magic interval when a confidence trickster knows he has the money he has appropriated but the victim does not yet understand that he has lost it" (JK Gabraith) 2. Uber.

Uber was, is, and always will be a bezzle. There are just intrinsic limitations to the profits available to operating a taxi fleet, even if you can misclassify your employees as contractors and steal their wages, even as you force them to bear the cost of buying and maintaining your taxis.

The magic of early Uber – when taxi rides were incredibly cheap, and there were always cars available, and drivers made generous livings behind the wheel – wasn't magic at all. It was just predatory pricing.

Uber lost $0.41 on every dollar they brought in, lighting $33b of its investors' cash on fire. Most of that money came from the Saudi royals, funneled through Softbank, who brought you such bezzles as WeWork – a boring real-estate company masquerading as a high-growth tech company, just as Uber was a boring taxi company masquerading as a tech company.

Predatory pricing used to be illegal, but Chicago School economists convinced judges to stop enforcing the law on the grounds that predatory pricing was impossible because no rational actor would choose to lose money. They (willfully) ignored the obvious possibility that a VC fund could invest in a money-losing business and use predatory pricing to convince retail investors that a pile of shit of sufficient size must have a pony under it somewhere.

This venture predation let investors – like Prince Bone Saw – cash out to suckers, leaving behind a money-losing business that had to invent ever-sweatier accounting tricks and implausible narratives to keep the suckers on the line while they blew town. A bezzle, in other words:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/19/fake-it-till-you-make-it/#millennial-lifestyle-subsidy

Uber is a true bezzle innovator, coming up with all kinds of fairy tales and sci-fi gimmicks to explain how they would convert their money-loser into a profitable business. They spent $2.5b on self-driving cars, producing a vehicle whose mean distance between fatal crashes was half a mile. Then they paid another company $400 million to take this self-licking ice-cream cone off their hands:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/09/herbies-revenge/#100-billion-here-100-billion-there-pretty-soon-youre-talking-real-money

Amazingly, self-driving cars were among the more plausible of Uber's plans. They pissed away hundreds of millions on California's Proposition 22 to institutionalize worker misclassification, only to have the rule struck down because they couldn't be bothered to draft it properly. Then they did it again in Massachusetts:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/06/15/simple-as-abc/#a-big-ask

Remember when Uber was going to plug the holes in its balance sheet with flying cars? Flying cars! Maybe they were just trying to soften us up for their IPO, where they advised investors that the only way they'd ever be profitable is if they could replace every train, bus and tram ride in the world:

https://48hills.org/2019/05/ubers-plans-include-attacking-public-transit/

Honestly, the only way that seems remotely plausible is when it's put next to flying cars for comparison. I guess we can be grateful that they never promised us jetpacks, or, you know, teleportation. Just imagine the market opportunity they could have ascribed to astral projection!

Narrative capitalism has its limits. Once Uber went public, it had to produce financial disclosures that showed the line going up, lest the bezzle come to an end. These balance-sheet tricks were as varied as they were transparent, but the financial press kept falling for them, serving as dutiful stenographers for a string of triumphant press-releases announcing Uber's long-delayed entry into the league of companies that don't lose more money every single day.

One person Uber has never fooled is Hubert Horan, a transportation analyst with decades of experience who's had Uber's number since the very start, and who has done yeoman service puncturing every one of these financial "disclosures," methodically sifting through the pile of shit to prove that there is no pony hiding in it.

In 2021, Horan showed how Uber had burned through nearly all of its cash reserves, signaling an end to its subsidy for drivers and rides, which would also inevitably end the bezzle:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/08/10/unter/#bezzle-no-more

In mid, 2022, Horan showed how the "profit" Uber trumpeted came from selling off failed companies it had acquired to other dying rideshare companies, which paid in their own grossly inflated stock:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/08/05/a-lousy-taxi/#a-giant-asterisk

At the end of 2022, Horan showed how Uber invented a made-up, nonstandard metric, called "EBITDA profitability," which allowed them to lose billions and still declare themselves to be profitable, a lie that would have been obvious if they'd reported their earnings using Generally Accepted Accounting Principles (GAAP):

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/11/bezzlers-gonna-bezzle/#gryft

Like clockwork, Uber has just announced – once again – that it is profitable, and once again, the press has credulously repeated the claim. So once again, Horan has published one of his magisterial debunkings on Naked Capitalism:

https://www.nakedcapitalism.com/2023/08/hubert-horan-can-uber-ever-deliver-part-thirty-three-uber-isnt-really-profitable-yet-but-is-getting-closer-the-antitrust-case-against-uber.html

Uber's $394m gains this quarter come from paper gains to untradable shares in its loss-making rivals – Didi, Grab, Aurora – who swapped stock with Uber in exchange for Uber's own loss-making overseas divisions. Yes, it's that stupid: Uber holds shares in dying companies that no one wants to buy. It declared those shares to have gained value, and on that basis, reported a profit.

Truly, any big number multiplied by an imaginary number can be turned into an even bigger number.

Now, Uber also reported "margin improvements" – that is, it says that it loses less on every journey. But it didn't explain how it made those improvements. But we know how the company did it: they made rides more expensive and cut the pay to their drivers. A 2.9m ride in Manhattan is now $50 – if you get a bargain! The base price is more like $70:

https://www.wired.com/story/uber-ceo-will-always-say-his-company-sucks/

The number of Uber drivers on the road has a direct relationship to the pay Uber offers those drivers. But that pay has been steeply declining, and with it, the availability of Ubers. A couple weeks ago, I found myself at the Burbank train station unable to get an Uber at all, with the app timing out repeatedly and announcing "no drivers available."

Normally, you can get a yellow taxi at the station, but years of Uber's predatory pricing has caused a drawdown of the local taxi-fleet, so there were no taxis available at the cab-rank or by dispatch. It took me an hour to get a cab home. Uber's bezzle destroyed local taxis and local transit – and replaced them with worse taxis that cost more.

Uber won't say why its margins are improving, but it can't be coming from scale. Before the pandemic, Uber had far more rides, and worse margins. Uber has diseconomies of scale: when you lose money on every ride, adding more rides increases your losses, not your profits.

Meanwhile, Lyft – Uber's also-ran competitor – saw its margins worsen over the same period. Lyft has always been worse at lying about it finances than Uber, but it is in essentially the exact same business (right down to the drivers and cars – many drivers have both apps on their phones). So Lyft's financials offer a good peek at Uber's true earnings picture.

Lyft is actually slightly better off than Uber overall. It spent less money on expensive props for its long con – flying cars, robotaxis, scooters, overseas clones – and abandoned them before Uber did. Lyft also fired 24% of its staff at the end of 2022, which should have improved its margins by cutting its costs.

Uber pays its drivers less. Like Lyft, Uber practices algorithmic wage discrimination, Veena Dubal's term describing the illegal practice of offering workers different payouts for the same work. Uber's algorithm seeks out "pickers" who are choosy about which rides they take, and converts them to "ants" (who take every ride offered) by paying them more for the same job, until they drop all their other gigs, whereupon the algorithm cuts their pay back to the rates paid to ants:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/12/algorithmic-wage-discrimination/#fishers-of-men

All told, wage theft and wage cuts by Uber transferred $1b/quarter from labor to Uber's shareholders. Historically, Uber linked fares to driver pay – think of surge pricing, where Uber charged riders more for peak times and passed some of that premium onto drivers. But now Uber trumpets a custom pricing algorithm that is the inverse of its driver payment system, calculating riders' willingness to pay and repricing every ride based on how desperate they think you are.

This pricing is a per se antitrust violation of Section 2 of the Sherman Act, America's original antitrust law. That's important because Sherman 2 is one of the few antitrust laws that we never stopped enforcing, unlike the laws banning predator pricing:

https://ilr.law.uiowa.edu/sites/ilr.law.uiowa.edu/files/2023-02/Woodcock.pdf

Uber claims an 11% margin improvement. 6-7% of that comes from algorithmic price discrimination and service cutbacks, letting it take 29% of every dollar the driver earns (up from 22%). Uber CEO Dara Khosrowshahi himself says that this is as high as the take can get – over 30%, and drivers will delete the app.

Uber's food delivery service – a baling wire-and-spit Frankenstein's monster of several food apps it bought and glued together – is a loser even by the standards of the sector, which is unprofitable as a whole and experiencing an unbroken slide of declining demand.

Put it all together and you get a picture of the kind of taxi company Uber really is: one that charges more than traditional cabs, pays drivers less, and has fewer cars on the road at times of peak demand, especially in the neighborhoods that traditional taxis had always underserved. In other words, Uber has broken every one of its promises.

We replaced the "evil taxi cartel" with an "evil taxi monopolist." And it's still losing money.

Even if Lyft goes under – as seems inevitable – Uber can't attain real profitability by scooping up its passengers and drivers. When you're losing money on every ride, you just can't make it up in volume.

Image: JERRYE AND ROY KLOTZ MD (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:LA_BREA_TAR_PITS,_LOS_ANGELES.jpg

CC BY-SA 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/deed.en

I’m kickstarting the audiobook for “The Internet Con: How To Seize the Means of Computation,” a Big Tech disassembly manual to disenshittify the web and bring back the old, good internet. It’s a DRM-free book, which means Audible won’t carry it, so this crowdfunder is essential. Back now to get the audio, Verso hardcover and ebook:

http://seizethemeansofcomputation.org

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/09/accounting-gimmicks/#unter

Image: JERRYE AND ROY KLOTZ MD (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:LA_BREA_TAR_PITS,_LOS_ANGELES.jpg

CC BY-SA 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/deed.en

#pluralistic #bezzles #hubert horan #uber #rideshare #accounting tricks #financial engineering #late-stage capitalism #narrative capitalism #lyft #transit #uber eats #venture predation #algorithmic wage discrimination

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itsphoenix0724 · 3 months

Text

All Things Vile (Eris x Reader)

Summary: A recon mission to the Autumn Court gets more heated than you intended. They say Autumn males fuck like they have fire in their veins-you guess you're about to find out.

Warnings: ROUGH SMUT (this is pure filth and I'm not sorry), kind of dark, oral (m!receiving) choking, bondage

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: It's been a while since I wrote for him, been a while since I wrote in general since I'm adjusting back into my school life. Chapter 3 of MMOTI is drafted and will hopefully be released soon! But anyway here's a smutty Eris fic for all of you <3

The Autumn Court was ablaze in moonlit revelry. The scent of spiced cider and ale consumed the grove along with the smell of the blazing campfire. Fog weaved in and out of the shadow-drenched trees, urging the partygoers to follow its trail into the darkness. You could make out bodies against trees, males and females losing themselves in one another, as you jumped silently along the oak’s branches. It was a simple mission; Get in and get out, that’s what Rhys had said, and that’s what you fully intended on doing. Cloaked in darkness, mask pulled up to hide everything but your eyes, you found your target.

A drunken blush stained his pale cheeks, and the blood-red silk shirt he wore was unbuttoned so obscenely low you could see the dappling of freckles along his chest in the firelight. His auburn hair was unruly; the waves held down only by the circlet of gold leaves that marked him as the firstborn son of Autumn. His lips were stained from the wine he was sipping and his eyes had taken on a seductive half-lid as he somehow fixed his burning gaze straight onto you.

Fuck, Rhys was going to kill you.

Eris stood from his chair in one smooth motion, prowling towards your spot hidden in the woods like a mountain cat, amber eyes burning. You jump down from your tree, weaving through the branches like smoke to try to lose the lordling who’s hot on your tail. Nothing but the sound of your labored breathing and the sounds of footfalls echo through the dark wood. You just need to get to the border, Eris won’t have the gall to cross after you. You can see the green grass of Spring, the pastel pink of the cherry blossoms grotesquely clashing with the russet hues of the forest that currently surrounds you.

You can almost smell the sickly sweet air when a hand encircles your wrist like a hot brand.

The world tips and falls, the grass slipping out from under your feet as you’re dropped into a room, landing on all fours against a hardwood floor. Bands of fire wrap around your wrists and ankles, pinning you to the ground, not burning but holding you there. The tell-tale wave of nausea that means you’ve been winnowed somewhere quickly overwhelms you as you try not to heave onto the plush burgundy rug infront of you.

Eris has taken you to his room at Fir Hall, his private estate away from his life wrapped in court politics, you’re familiar with the home after many spy missions here. Your eyes fix on the Autumn Prince with a burning ferocity, and he does nothing but glare back down at you from where he looms above you.

“Well, well what has fallen into my trap,” He fixes you with a wolfish smile as he pulls down your mask, and your lips peel back into a snarl. “Hello Sweetheart,” he purrs as he tucks a loose hair behind your ears. “I’ve missed you, it’s very nice to see you again.” He tries to run a thumb over your bottom lip, but you snap your teeth in his direction like a feral animal and he wisely pulls his hand away.

“Bite me,” you growl out as Eris crouches down until he’s at eye level with you. A hound cornering a wild fox, it seemed the hunter had won tonight as he lets out a laugh that leaves a burning caress down your spine.

“Oh, I intend to.” He promises, stroking his hand along the back of your hair, pulling out the hair tie, and letting it fall around your face. “Now will you mind your manners?” He raises a copper brow, eyes dancing with amusement. The bond buried deep in your chest tries to wiggle free of its restraints, begging you to let it play with the other half of your soul.

“Never,” you vow to him even as the mischief in his eyes turns to longing. This is torture denying yourself of him.

But how could you not?

Beron is still High Lord, if you were to tie yourself to him you would have to abide by his rules. You would rather claw your own eyes out. And if your family ever found out, if Mor ever found out, the shame and guilt would burn more than the roaring fire in the hearth.

So you have this, you take every mission you can to Autumn and collect all the broken pieces and scraps that you can get. This is what you will allow yourself.

“I thought that would be the case,” Eris gets up and languidly strolls away from you, plucking the bottle of bourbon from the cabinet and pouring himself a drink. You watch with adept interest as his ring-clad fingers tighten around the crystalline glass, he strolls over to his bookshelf and plucks a well-loved novel off the dark shelf.

Then the bastard settles himself into one of the plush armchairs and starts to fucking read. He ignores you as though you’re nothing more than a potted plant in the corner, he doesn’t even so much as glance at you, fully enraptured in his novel. A few minutes pass when you clear your throat. Eris deigns to look bored as he lazily turns his head toward you.

“Yes?” He asks, propping the book against one knee and taking another sip of his whiskey. Your eyes track the movement of his throat involuntarily.

“Aren’t you going to do something?” You push, urging him with your eyes as you lift your head through the curtain of your hair. You hope your gaze communicates everything you cannot bring yourself to voice, fearing your body will refuse to allow you air if you try.

I love you, please don’t ignore me, I need you, play with me

He chuckles a dark sound and picks up his book again, pointedly flicking a page as the rubies on his hands glint in the firelight.

“I’m not in the business of playing with unwilling toys,” Eris supplies, purposely staring at the fire instead of you. “Perhaps I should call Rhysand to collect you and tell him I don’t appreciate being spied on. Perhaps, he will never send you back here.” His brows scrunch in frustration but you both know that the threat is empty. It seems he is tired of your games.

“What do you want?” You barely grind out, still refusing to relent to the signing inside your soul. “Do you want me to beg? Is that it? Princely bastard.” You practically spit, and faster than the blink of an eye Eris is in front of you, fisting your hair in one hand and tilting your chin to meet his smoldering gaze.

“Are you ashamed of me?” He questions, and you can see the vulnerability dancing in his eyes. You shake your head as the fire binding your wrists recedes and you move into a more comfortable kneeling position, hands now bound in front of you. He soothes his hand along your cheek again as your brows knit together. You thought that the two of you had a kind of understanding. You had no idea where this was coming from. “I tire of this ruse, my love.” If Eris notices the mournful look in your eyes he says nothing. He strokes a warm hand through your hair, admiring your eyes in the firelight. “Why don’t you show me how much you missed me huh?” The wolfish grin is back and you hum your agreement as he runs his thumb along your bottom lip again, pleased at your cooperation as he slides his finger into your mouth. He thrusts it into your mouth and as you teasingly run your tongue over the pad he lets out a moan that shoots straight to your core.

He undoes the belt at his waist, pulling his cock out with his hand, and your mouth waters at the sheer size of him.

“I’m going to fuck your mouth now,” he rumbles, pure authority and power radiating off of him. A glimpse at the future ruler he will become one day. You nod your enthusiastic consent as he grips the back of your head and thrusts into your mouth at a merciless pace. Your head empties as he hits the back of your throat, the hand cupping the back of your hair surprisingly gentle compared to the way he was brutalizing your mouth. “That’s a good girl, take me down your throat.” It spills out of his mouth like he can’t even control it as your eyes roll back in your head at his praise. Eris pushes your mouth all the way down to the base of his dick and holds you there for a few seconds as your nose connects with his pelvic bone. He’s relentless as he uses you for his pleasure and you think that he might bruise your vocal cords.

He spills down your throat as your binds dissolve into nothing, leaving behind a warm tingling sensation where the fire licked at your limbs.

You swallow what he gave you, opening your mouth in emphasis as whiskey eyes blow wide with lust. You’re drenched at the sight of his cock already stiffening again. He walks to the mountainous bed in front of you, making himself comfortable against the pillows.

“Come here pet.” He growls fisting his cock in his hand and crooking his fingers with the other. You start to rise to your legs on sore knees, but you freeze when Eris tuts–holding his hand out to stop you. “No. I want you to crawl to me.” The order wraps around you like warm silk, voice sliding against your bones. You lower yourself back down to the floor, humiliation burning hot on your cheeks as you sway your hips in what you hope to be enticing. He stops you quickly and you look up at him from under fluttering lashes. “Strip. Slowly.” Your face burns even hotter and Eris can’t take his eyes off you as you rise, slowly undoing every single buckle on your leathers and letting them fall to the floor, leaving you entirely exposed to him before climbing onto the bed. His body is so warm against your skin as he draws your mouth to his, the burning taste of cinnamon whiskey floods your mouth. He dominates you even here, claiming you as his tongue wrestles with yours. The moan that slips out of you comes out scratchy from the abuse of your throat, and in a flash, you’re below him as he grinds his hips into yours.

“Eris,” you whimper as his cock brushes against your folds. You need him to fill you to the brim, wanting him as close as possible. He shushes you gently as he bites at your pulse point, the only goal in his mind is to claim as he sucks dark marks into your neck.

You’ll surely be wearing only turtle necks for a few weeks after this.

His warm hands skate down your body, pulling and prodding at your sensitive nipples, letting out a dark chuckle as you whine at his ministrations. Eris mocks your moans as he rubs a finger at your center, rolling the sensitive bundle of nerves between his fingers. Finally, he slips a finger inside of you rubbing at the spot that makes you see stars. He knows exactly where to touch to get you to dissolve, his beautiful mate bending to him like water running through his fingertips. That ring-clad hand curls around your throat, cold metal contrasting with his warm hands, and you keen as the pleasant dizzy feeling takes over your whole body.

That feeling combined with the addition of another finger in your core sends you hurtling through gold-flecked oblivion.

He pulls his fingers out of you, sucking them into his mouth and moaning as he relishes the taste of you on his tongue. Staring down at your shaking form with smugness in his eyes as he circles the skin of your inner thigh, enjoying the way the muscles quiver under his touch. Eris sinks himself into you, inch by tortuous inch until you can’t tell where your body ends and he begins. He strokes slowly and deliberately, bruising you with his intensity as your vision goes white with searing pleasure every time he moves his hips.

You want him to leave his imprint everywhere on your body, that unanswered bond begging you to never leave this bed again. Eris must feel it too, that golden thread wrapping around his heart begging him to keep you, to never let another male so much as look at you. That makes something ugly twist in his chest and he almost snarls at even the thought of another male near you as his instincts take over and he draws your legs over his shoulders to hit an even deeper part inside of you. Your walls are clenching and fluttering around him as his pace turns ravenous, all you can do is try to hold on as your nails scrape jagged lines down his back. Eris scrapes his teeth over your neck, then he moves down to your nipple biting down as you scream his name before giving the other one equal attention.

“Who do you belong to pet?” He murmurs in your ear in time with a thrust that's so deep your vision turns white. “Who’s the only one that can make you feel like this?” You can barely give him anything but a whimper as he devastates your body, pinching your clit in a way that elicits a pleasure-soaked sob. “Scream it for me,” he punctuates it with a slap against the apex of your thighs.

“Yours Eris, I’m all yours!” You scream as you orgasm, tears running down your flushed cheeks, Eris follows soon after you spilling himself deep inside of you.

He pulls out, disappears into the bathroom, and returns with a clean rag to wipe up the mess he made between your thighs. He collapses onto the mattress next to you and pulls you to his chest, warming his hands with his power as he rubs slow circles into the small of your back. You look up at him and he’s taken aback at the vulnerability in your eyes. “Eris I-” you choke, unable to force the words you so desperately want to say past your lips. He shushes you with a kiss against your forehead.

“I know,” he mutters into your hairline “I know.” You hold him tighter, blinking back tears as you lock the bond back down in its obsidian shackles,“I’ll wait an eternity for you.” It’s the last thing you hear before closing your eyes as you let him soothe you to sleep.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“I trust everything went well?” Rhys asks, raising a dark brow at your form where you stand across from his desk. You subconsciously pull the dark turtleneck further up, the deep purple marks burning like a brand. You scrubbed yourself raw as soon as you winnowed yourself to your apartment, and you’re praying to the Mother that Rhys doesn’t even catch a whiff of Eris or the frankly copious amounts of sex. The thought of Eris enjoying it this morning, pressing his nose against the crook of your neck to make sure it really stuck, before crawling his way down your body to settle in between your thighs makes you triple-check that the steel of your mental shields was still in place.

“Nothing to report,” You rasp, voice destroyed after last night's events. The attempts to clear your throat are doing nothing to help you

“Are you alright?” Rhys questions, wringing his hands together on his desk as he shoots a concerned look.

“Must just be a chill I caught in Autumn, those woods get cold at night.” You supply and he hums his agreement.

“Well go rest, you’ve earned it. Perhaps you should see Madja for something to soothe your throat.” Rhys says and you nod your agreement, taking the cue for your dismissal. You wait until his office door clicks shut behind you to let out your sigh of relief, thinking of nothing but soft sheets and warm hands.

You can only hope you get another mission there soon.

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #acosf fanfiction #acotar imagine #eris vanserra #eris imagine #eris x reader #eris acotar #eris vanserra smut

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m-ayo-o · 4 months

Note

megumi…..bunny……….rough…..tail pulling…….?😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

ur back !! i still haven't done your last one... its in my drafts , thriving there with all the other half written things~ here's a short one for ya

notice: GENERAL REQUESTS ARE CLOSED 🍒

tysm for all the super cute asks and stuff !! gonna be busy for a while now but ive got some things queued + gonna work on some longer fics too ^^ m still here tho so come say hey anytime xx (especually u anon, ur ideas are gorrrgeous <3)

21+ megumi x hybrid bunny : your owner can be so cruel sometimes... tail pulling, fingering, spanking, fucking, anal mention 18+

"Ow--! Oh- o- owner!!"

He could get off to this sound, he swears.

"Nh-- oo-owww!!"

You're bent over the kitchen worktop where you were peacefully tidying away the dishes when he returned home.

He texted you to put something skimpy on, and you didn't disappoint. When he arrived home he saw your body barely covered in a tiny apron, you looked gorgeous from behind, with your cute ass on show and your tail poking out.

He stared, his narrow eyes never leaving your frame as he crept up behind you.

He can be silent when he wants.

He knows it's cruel, but he just loves how you react.

You squeal and jump out of your skin at his first contact- a strong hand on the plush of your ass. But he caresses your body and calms you down again, as if he wasn't the one who just scared you half to death.

His cold fingers trace down your naked spine, eliciting a shiver and a flurry of goosebumps. He follows the curve of your back to your ass, finding that cotton white tail.

"Such a pretty little thing." He stands slightly to your side and admires your quivering form, as if you're his prey, caught in his trap.

He palms the soft ball of your tail, drawing out little sighs from you. It always feels nice to be touched there. It's hard to describe the feeling it gives you. It tickles a bit, making your lower back hum with sensitivity, then when he tugs it... you moan.

It feels erotic.

"W-wait- when you pull my tail like that---"

"I know, I know."

It pulls at your two cute holes in tandem, giving them a little stretch.

"Nh- ah-"

He steadies you with his free hand and keeps going, pulling harder until you drop the dishes and cry out.

"O-owner, wait, wait-!"

You have no idea what you've done to deserve this.

"Baby, just let me," he soothes you, long fingers scooping between your thighs, finding the tight heat in the middle. He plays with you there, simultaneously yanking your tail, teaching you slowly that pleasure and pain go hand in hand.

"Good girl, good girl," he coos and watches tears spill from your eyes.

"So pretty, well done bunny," he kisses your cheek and starts drawing the tightest circles around your clit while your thighs spread wider for him with your ass in the air and your boobs smooshed into the marble, spilling out of the apron.

His dexterous fingers swirl through your folds and find your cute little hole.

"You're soaked, bunny."

He pushes you there, revelling in the silky feeling of your entrance.

"You like this really, don't you?"

He tugs you hard, lifting your ass off the counter, making your body jolt with pain. A look of panic crosses your face when he keeps going; intensely pulling you and making you squeak and grab the cold marble, until you start blubbering that it feels good.

He knew it. He just had to get it out of you.

And it was so satisfying.

He has a sadistic smirk on his face now, pulling at your fluffy tail with one hand till you're going limp, while he teases your pussy apart with his fingers. You're desperate to feel them inside you, and he dryly laughs when you start trying to hump his hand.

He watches you get dumb. And then, when you start to pant out his name along with little pleas, he holds your tail up and gives you what you want.

He fingers you till your thighs shake.

Then he keeps going, holding and pulling your tail all the while.

After losing count of your orgasms, you feel his long fingers sliding out.

"Not playing games anymore, bunny."

You hear him mutter, followed by the distinct sound of his zipper.

"Gonna let me fuck you like this?"

You nod. Quickly.

"Good girl. Take my hand."

He holds you tight and buries his dick in you, fucking you senseless and smacking your ass raw, finally cumming when he pulls that little tail up again.

Next time he swears he's gonna fuck you in the ass. And he'll find something new to pull on.

Maybe your ears.

megumi | m.list

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #female reader #18+ content #megumi fushiguro #megumi x reader #megumi <3 #hybrid bunny #bunny reader #bunny hybrid #bunny owner #bunny girl #subby bunny #hybrid reader #hybrid girl #megumi x hybrid #megumi x bunny

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builtbybrokenbells · 4 months

Text

Reaching New Heights

While under the impression that she has the house to herself, y/n enjoys some much needed alone time. Jake, planning on coming home to surprise her, walks himself straight into a whole new world.

Based off this request 🤍

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 11k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, virgin reader/losing virginity, unprotected sex, oral (f!receiving), fingering (f!receiving), masturbating (f!receiving), simultaneous orgasm, multiple orgasm, very soft dom type beat, slight cockwarming if you squint, dry humping, touch of spit play, touch of voyeurism, praise, dirty talk, name calling, begging, very very sweet Jake ☹️, anxiety, fluff, swearing, talks of bad dating experiences, sorry if I miss any!

thank to the lovely anon who requested this! sorry for all of my other requests waiting, I promise I’m getting there! I had an idea like this already sitting in the drafts, so when I saw this request I had to write it! I hope this is what you were looking for, and I do apologize for this basically just being pwp. As always, enjoy, be kind, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes! 🤍 (extremely lightly edited)

Intimacy, especially in the sexual context, had always been a touchy subject for you. It wasn’t because of any moral dilemmas, nor because of bad past experiences. You weren’t saving yourself for marriage, and you did not value your virginity as a ‘virtue’. You simply chose not to engage because you had never met anyone who you believed was right for you. You had plenty of dates and failed talking stages with men who only ever seemed interested in getting in your pants, but you had never met someone who seemed interested in you beyond anything sexual. You wanted to explore, to test your own limits and discover yourself with another person, but you could not bring yourself to undress for someone who only wanted (and planned) to leave after the fact.

You were comfortable with your own routine, and after a while it seemed more likely that you would remain a virgin until your hair turned gray and you were sat in a nursing home. At first, it bothered you, but then it became the most normal part of your life. You would rather keep to yourself than give away a part of you to someone who would not appreciate it. Most people weren’t interested in dating once you specified that you would not put out on the first date, and to you, that was okay; they weren’t worth your time or effort. Life was simple without anyone else empeding on your routine, anyway.

Then, one fateful day at a lovely, locally owned music store, you found yourself in front of someone who changed your world entirely, flipping it on its axis and throwing your whole life off course. You had (literally) run into him when you were least expecting it; he had stepped in front of you as you were bustling to the counter to pay for your handful of vinyl records. He apologized profusely, landing a gentle hand on your arm to make sure you were steady on your feet and he hadn’t hurt you. You were too enthralled in the beauty of his face to comprehend the words he was speaking, anyway. His long brown hair hung down to frame his face, and his warm, chocolate coloured eyes seemed to be staring straight into your soul. His smile was inviting, and his charm was unexplainable. He’d made you fall for him without even trying.

Once you managed to overcome your nervous staring, you forced a smile and assured him you were alright. He introduced himself, hesitant to believe you were telling the truth, and insisted on buying your records for you as an apology. After a drawn out back-and-forth argument, he eventually managed to convince you that it was the only apology he would allow for himself. Before you ventured to the counter, you took interest in the specific guitar he was fawning over on the wall. After explaining the details to you, you were left feeling disappointed at the prospect of having to part with him once you stepped out the door.

He ended up buying your records, and the guitar hanging on the wall, but he didn’t seem to want to let you leave without anything more, either.

So, instead of going your separate ways, you ended up at a diner just down the street, sharing lunch and getting to know each other as best as you could in the limited time you had. Laughs were plentiful and fulfillment was felt from all sides. Jake Kiszka was the man you had been waiting for, someone who saw you as a person, not just something to fuck. He was interested in every small detail, and he wanted to know everything he could about you. He was a bit shy, and very nervous, but he was sweet, kind, and he took your breath away. When you left the restaurant, you had a new found excitement for life, and a phone number in your contact list that would now be called on the daily.

At first, the relationship was built slowly and carefully. The two of you started as friends, texting each other regularly and trying your best to discover all of the intimate details about each other. Then, when you guys built up enough courage, you started going on small dates; movie nights, dinner dates, Sunday afternoon drives… you wanted to do anything and everything with him. He quickly became your closest friend and your most trusted confidant. You spent so much time together that it was almost strange not being in the same place. Of course, eventually, his time to tour came around, and it threw your life so violently off track that it was nearly hard to function.

When he first told you, you tried to force a smile and pretend all was well, but he knew you better than that. He could see the sadness in your eyes, and the apprehension. You were both so head over heels for each other that it made it hard to think of anything else. All of the late night phone calls and evenings spent immersed in each other had finally resulted in something much bigger. You were in love, and you were terrified for him to leave you. You feared that once he was gone, he would find someone more exciting, more interesting. Little did you know, he was afraid of all the same things.

So, as you sat in his living room while he packed up the last of his things, he dropped a sly comment about you taking care of his place while he was gone, coming over and watering his plants, and even staying the night if you missed him too much. It was his indirect way of giving you a key to his house, and in turn, his heart. He slipped the spare key from his pocket, handing it over and giving you a smile. Before he went to the airport, you found yourselves confessing your hearts and kissing with tears running down your face. He asked you to be his girlfriend before he ever got on the plane.

Every night, when he was holed up in a different hotel room, he was calling you with excitement, unable to wait to tell you all about his day. It was a different kind of feeling, falling in love with someone without anything other than emotional connection. After a year of touring and only being home with you for a few days at a time, he was growing restless and more eager to be with you again. By the time he got home from traveling the world, he missed you so much that he rarely let you leave his side. Within a few months, your belongings were packed up and ready to be taken to his house, and not long after that, it was no longer just Jake’s house, it was yours, too.

When the two of you were together, it grew increasingly more difficult to navigate your lack of sexual experience. He was very affectionate, his hands always on you and kissing you whenever he could. You felt that he was getting frustrated with your rejections, and it forced you into a corner. You had to open up to him, to tell him the truth and that your avoidance was not because of him at all. You sat him down not long after the two of you moved in together, knowing that you should have confessed to him sooner, and fearful that it would change the way he viewed you.

But, almost as if Jake was put on the earth to challenge every single previous idea you had about men, he smiled and held you, expressing his gratitude that you were comfortable enough to share such things with him. He fell in love with you without sex, and that did not change anything for him. You were worth much more to him than that, and he wanted to make sure you knew it. He thanked you for telling him, and he apologized if he ever made you uncomfortable with his actions before your discussion. He promised that he would never push you, and you could take as much time as you needed to open up and explore that with him.

He was a dream come true, and after a few months, you could easily see that he was determined to stay true to his word. He didn’t once make you feel bad for wanting to wait a little longer, and he never pushed you to do anything that made you uncomfortable. Soon after, you began to realize that Jake truly was the one for you, and that all of your previous fears were quickly becoming obsolete. He did not want you for sex; he loved you for your heart, and when you were ready, he would love you for everything else, too.

Even while you found yourself amidst heated make out sessions, and you could feel how much he wanted you, he never pushed you further. When you laid in bed, and he inevitably found his hands becoming more and more curious, he stopped himself before you even had to say anything. He looked the other way when you were getting changed, and even closed his eyes and left the room if he accidentally walked in on you in an awkward position. He was the epitome of patience and kindness, and the longer you watched him respect you in such a way, the harder you fell for him.

You made sure to thank him often, expressing your appreciation for his patience and his willingness to wait. He valued you so highly, and your comfort was always his top priority. Sometimes, you feared that if you made him wait too long, he would begin to lose interest, but every day he proved to you that he was in it for the long haul. He wanted to be with you, and it did not matter in which way. He loved you, and if waiting made you most comfortable, then he would wait forever for you. It quickly became apparent to you that he was the love of your life, and the prospect of sharing that part of you became more enticing every single day.

It was not like you didn’t want to have sex with Jake; if anything, you wanted it so badly that it made it hard to think of anything else sometimes. Once the fear faded away, it was replaced with awkwardness and uncertainty on the topic. You feared that because of your lack of experience, it would be disappointing for him. There were so many questions that you did not know the answer to, and they plagued you almost every time you thought about it. What if he thought you were stupid because you didn't know what you were doing? What if he wasn’t interested in you once you took your clothes off? What if you did nothing but embarrass yourself?

It was all too much sometimes, and you knew the best way to deal with it was to talk to him, but the topic was daunting for you, and it was embarrassing. It was something you knew little about, and it made you feel silly and even a little naïve. You didn’t know what you liked, and you certainly didn’t know how to do anything that he liked. You knew that with the patience that Jake had shown you, he would be nothing but kind in bed, and he would certainly help you figure everything out, but it was so scary to think about, and it was easier for you to avoid it. You were afraid of looking dumb, and the fear hindered you more than anything else. In the time you spent with him, it became more clear that Jake was what you’d been waiting for the whole time, but now you were facing a whole new challenge; being vulnerable enough to let him show you the ropes.

Every so often, curiosity got the best of you, and you let your eyes linger on him a little too long when he was shirtless, and an unfamiliar feeling would blossom in your stomach. He would move a certain way, or his hand would move a little too far up your thigh, and you would be plagued with temptation to touch him. He would wear certain clothes that would drive you crazy when you looked at him for long enough, and it was becoming harder to ignore every single day. He was what you wanted, and it was so difficult to feel that way when you felt paralyzed at the thought of progressing any further. Jake was driving you crazy, and he wasn’t even doing it intentionally; he was just existing, and that was enough to push you closer and closer to the edge.

Like when he would stretch, and a peek of his tanned stomach would be visible, showing you his treasure trail and a slight hint of a v-line, or when he was sleeping so soundly and turned on to his side to pull you to his chest. The feeling of his body against yours was intense, and the longer he held you to him, he more turned on he would get. An ache would begin between your legs as he slept soundly behind you, his erection pressing into your ass. He wouldn’t even realize it, but he would pull you closer to relieve the ache and give him some much needed friction. You would let it play out; you enjoyed it so much, but you could not seem to voice that to him while he was awake. When he woke and realized the extent of his actions, he apologized profusely while you continued to imagine what it would be like if he kept going, pulling your shorts down just enough to give himself access to you.

You imagined what it would feel like as he rested himself against your entrance, speaking softly in your ear as he talked you through it. How he would put his fingers in his mouth, collecting enough spit to lubricate them before his hand drifted between your thighs. You wondered what it would feel like for his fingers to be tracing around your clit instead of your own, how excited he would be just from touching you alone. Your skin tingled at the thought of his rough fingertips gently working at you as he whispered encouragement in your ear, eventually working you up enough to add his cock to you, too. The picture of him being inside you was too much to bear, and just the thought of feeling so close to him was intoxicating. You had to force a smile on your face while apologized, assuring him you were alright while you thought of all of the filthy things that he could be doing to you. You wanted it so bad, but when you finally found enough courage to ask that of him, the words seemed to get stuck in your throat.

When he would leave for errands, or when he would go to work in the mornings, you would think back on the incidents that caused the flutter in your belly. The longer you focused on it, the more uncomfortable you became. You would work yourself up to the point of no return, and you would have to relieve yourself before Jake got back. In your shared bed, you would let your hand slip between your legs as you thought of all of the things Jake did to you without even knowing it. It wouldn’t take long until you were a mess, muttering his name as you reached a climax that was stronger than any you’d ever felt before.

It was almost routine, now. You were so needy that every time Jake stepped out for a moment, you would have to take the time and get yourself off. It was the only way you could keep up with the temptations without having to open up to him about it. He would come home, and you would smile and kiss him as if your fingers hadn’t just been playing with your own cunt while you imagined it was him doing it, instead.

This small ritual was exactly what happened on that specific day; you had grown so comfortable with it that when Jake left for the studio in the morning, you couldn’t wait to finish your household chores so you could cut straight to the point. You kissed him goodbye, wishing him a good day, and watched as he walked to his car, guitar case in his hand as he blew a kiss to you over his shoulder. The jeans he was wearing were tight, hugging every inch of his legs and showcasing every small detail to you. The denim sat nicely over his ass, and unfortunately for you, every other part of him that you tried your best not to think about. His shirt was old, the button up beginning to fray at the sleeves and the fabric becoming thin and worn. He had the last two buttons done, but left the top open as always. The soft, tanned skin of his chest made your mouth water and your stomach twist with desire. You did not know how much longer you could hold yourself back.

He got in his car and drove away, but you stayed at the door, watching the now empty space for a moment longer while you collected your thoughts. You were so worked up that your cheeks were burning and your heart was thudding dramatically against your chest. You forced yourself to shower, taking some extra time to shave and really make yourself feel good. You did the dishes, and you grabbed something to eat, and you wondered if you might be able to curb the urge that day. Once you were away from him and busy with other things, the need seemed so much smaller.

As you sat down to eat, you knew that it was absolutely impossible to ignore such a feeling, because the minute your mind was left without a distraction, Jake was the only thing it wanted to focus on. You forced your lunch into you, remembering that Jake said his day at the studio might be a little longer than the last. You had ample time to really draw the whole experience out, so that’s what you did. When you made it to your bedroom, you knew you had about an hour until he was home again. You took off your clothes, put on some music, only quietly so you could hear if the front door opened, you turned off the lights, and you laid on his side of the bed. You closed your eyes, breathing slowly as you remembered the morning the two of you spent together. It started sweet, like always.

You woke up with Jake next to you, the scent of his shampoo lingering in the sheets as the soft sounds of his snores filled your ears. You looked back over your shoulder at him, smiling as you admired the peaceful expression on his face. He was shirtless, as always, only a pair of boxers on as the comforter covered up his lower half. You watched his chest rise and fall as he breathed, and his stomach, too. You knew you shouldn’t have looked for so long, because the longer you stared, the more curious you became. You reached out, settling your hand on his stomach gently, a little lower than you usually would. You let your fingers drift over the skin, sending a light tickle through him. He tensed slightly at the feeling, but did not wake. After a few seconds, he woke up just enough to realize it was you touching him.

He moved onto his side, draping an arm over your waist as he pulled you closer to him. Every morning went the same, and you looked forward to it every day. He guided you into him, resting your back against his bare chest. His warmth was comforting, and you wished to live in the moment forever. His hand that was wrapped around you drifted underneath your shirt, resting on your stomach as he brought you even closer to him. The curve of your ass fit perfectly against his hips and his nose was brushing against your shoulder. His head was buried in the crook of your neck as he placed a gentle kiss on it. The sensation sent a shiver down your spine and you closed your eyes. He seemed more awake than he usually was, but not completely aware.

You brought your hand under your shirt, too, resting it on top of his own. Once you felt like he’d drifted off to sleep again, you guided his hand upwards even further, so it was resting on your rib cage just below your breast. You wanted to take it further, but instead, you pushed your ass back into him a little. In his sleepy state, the small feeling prompted a physical reaction. His breathing quickened, but he didn’t move any further. For a moment, you had to question if he was awake too, or if he was stuck in a dream about the exact position you were laying in. His rough fingertips against your skin was intoxicating, and you needed more, but you were too afraid to wake him and tell him so.

You moved your hips against him again, feeling his fingers tighten against you. His knuckles brushed against the underside of your breast, and even in a sleeping state, he could recognize that feeling from anywhere. On his own, he moved his hand up further, cupping it in his palm as his head nuzzled further into your neck. Your breath caught in your throat and that familiar feeling began to pulse in the pit of your stomach. His grip grew stronger, and for a moment, you really did believe that he was awake. His thumb drifted over your hardened nipple, causing your hips to move against him again.

You could feel his erection growing against you, becoming more noticeable as each second passed. You squeezed your thighs together, feeling the ache begin to make itself known. Your breathing sped, and your heart pounded against your chest. His hand stayed on your chest for only a moment until a small noise escaped him, his own need showing even while he was asleep. His hand traveled down your body, landing on your hip as he pulled you back on him. Your breath caught in your throat as you tried to keep yourself quiet. You bit down on your lip, scared to make a sound in case he woke and the moment ended.

His fingers held you tightly as he pulled you back on to him, his cock painfully hard as his hips moved against your ass. The throbbing between your legs was unbearable, and you could only imagine that he was feeling the same type of desperation amidst his dreams. Then, as your heart raced, you heard him whisper your name so delicately that a shiver ran down your spine. He wasn’t just dreaming of sex; he was dreaming of you.

Instead of focusing on what came after, when he woke up with embarrassment written in his features and apologies on his tongue, you pretended what it would be like if you had the courage to tell him to keep going. As you thought of it, you let your hand slip between your thighs. You were already aching for relief, your arousal pooling and showing you just how bad you needed him. You let your middle finger begin tracing slow circles around your clit as your mind clung to thoughts of Jake and just how much you wanted him to take care of you.

You imagined his dark eyes growing heavy as he woke, apologizing being the last thing on his mind. You imagined the desperation in his movement as his fingers dipped below your shorts, moving back from you only for long enough to pull them down over your ass. You thought about how good it would feel to have his hand drift to your cunt, relieving the ache that he’d become so good at causing. You didn’t want him to ask if it was okay, or for any type of permission. You wanted him to have you however he wanted, and you would just be thankful that he was giving you anything at all.

“How does that feel, Angel?” He asked, his voice raspy and rough from sleep as his fingers trace around your aching clit. “Does that feel good? Is this what you want?”

“F-fuck, yes, Jake.” You whine, moving your hips forward to meet his hand, so needy and he barely even touched you yet.

“Just want me to take care of you, baby? Need me to show you how good I can make you feel?” His normally sweet and doting personality was gone, replaced with an animalistic desire after waiting so long to have you. You could feel his cock pressing into your ass, still aching to be touched. He needed you so bad that it was impossible to hide it. “You know I’ll always take care of you, sweet girl… give you anything you want.”

“Y-you, Jake. I want you.” You pleaded, feeling yourself clench around nothing. You wanted him so badly, and you weren’t sure if you could wait any longer.

“You want me, sweetheart?” He crooned, the sound of your desperation sending a shiver down his spine. “You want me to fuck you?”

“Yes please,” you plead, feeling your stomach twist with pleasure.

“Since you asked so nicely,” he whispered, his tone resembling a growl. He drew his hand from you, pulling his boxers down just enough to free himself. He brought his hand to his mouth, spitting on it and stroking himself for a few moments. He moved his hips forward, resting the tip of his cock against your entrance. “How bad do you want it, sweetheart.” His low tone settled deep in your bones, making your entire body quiver.

“So bad, Jake. I need you.” You squeeze your eyes shut, your breath stuck in your throat as you feel him push inside of you.

You worked yourself up to the point of absolute desperation. You felt like you were on the brink of insanity, your skin was on fire and your mind was a mess with thoughts of the boy you were so in love with. You were so deep in the fantasy that you could feel it, as if he was in front of you, touching you and pushing you closer and closer to the edge. You were sweating, your heart racing and your stomach twisted into knots. You needed to let go, but more than that, you needed him.

Little to your knowledge, Jake was unlocking the front door, a sneaky smile on his face as a bouquet of flowers was held tightly in his hand. He’d been planning this all week; coming home from the studio early to surprise you, just to see the look on your face. He’d been working more often than usual as of late, and he felt like he wasn’t spending enough time with you. He’d specifically told you he’d be later than he actually would be, just so he wouldn’t ruin the element of shock. When he unlocked the door and stepped inside, he expected to be greeted by you soon after. His confusion grew as he looked to the kitchen and did not see you there. Next, he checked the living room, wondering if you were curled up on the couch reading a book.

When he couldn’t find you there, he figured the only other place you would be is the bedroom. Your car was outside, and you hadn’t mentioned having to run any errands that day. He took to the stairs, wondering if you decided to take a nap or watch a movie in bed. As he climbed to the top of the stairs, he noticed the soft drift of music through the door. He smiled to himself, knowing he would find you wrapped up in blankets and dozing away the day. He could curl up next to you, holding you close while you slept, and maybe even fall asleep beside you. As he reached the door, he was about to reach out and turn the knob, but he froze in his tracks.

An unfamiliar, incredibly enticing sound reached his ears. It was muffled, barely heard over the speaker and through the closed door, but he caught it. Instead of interrupting, he waited and listened, wondering if his ears were deceiving him. He moved his head closer to the door, nearly pressing his ear against the hollow wood as he strained to hear, trying to piece together the situation.

You were so lost in your own little world that you did not hear the door open downstairs, nor did you hear his footsteps in the hallway. You were so close to an orgasm that not much could distract you from it. Your eyes were shut, your breathing labored as you pictured how softly his hands would drift over the curves of your hips, and how intoxicating his tongue on your skin would feel. You thought of the sweet words rolling off his tongue, the imaginary praise and encouragement driving you even closer to a climax. He would be so sweet, so attentive and caring, and you knew he’d make you feel better than you ever had before. You couldn’t help it, the moans falling from your lips were obscene and his name was delicately mixed within them as if he was in there with you, causing the pleasure himself.

He listened carefully, his cheeks flushing with pleasure at the sound of pleasure stuck on your lips. Desire filled him, running all the way from his throat down to his stomach. It made his chest burn and his skin tingle with excitement. In an instant, he’d forgotten about the romantic gesture and the flowers in his hand; he was only focused on wanting to be the reason those sounds were laced around your tongue. He didn’t want to interrupt, and he feared that if he opened the door, he would embarrass you to death. He worried about overstepping, and he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, but the sounds were so beautiful that it made his head spin. He tried to force himself to stop listening, fearing he was breaching your trust and invading your privacy, but he couldn’t will himself to walk away.

He was growing increasingly frustrated as he stood and listened, his heart pounding against his chest and his whole body aching with desire. He could feel himself growing more turned on, his cock pressing against the zipper of his jeans as his own desperation became stronger. He palmed himself through the fabric, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He knew he should walk away, leave you alone to finish up and go take care of his own problem. It was the right thing to do, and he knew that, but the idea of you touching yourself, possibly to the thought of him, was so enticing.

Just as he thought he could find the strength to walk away, he heard the sound, so gentle and loving that he could not withstand it any longer.

“Oh god, Jake.” You whined, the sound floating through the door and settling deep in his chest. “Jake…”

It was too much for him. His hand shot out, clasping around the doorknob as he gently pushed it open. The light flooded the room, illuminating you laying so intimately on his side of the bed. Your cheeks were flushed, blotchy with red patches. A thin layer of sweat had formed over your body, only making you all the more beautiful to him. Your lips were parted, his name still caught on your tongue as your hand was settled between your legs, working intently at your cunt. Your head turned to the side, your eyes wide with shock as you tried to process the sudden change in the situation. You were so caught up in pleasure that your hand didn’t even move away from your clit as you locked eyes with him.

Suddenly, your brain seemed to catch up with the situation, and embarrassment began to take over. You panicked, scrambling to move your hand away and cover yourself with the blanket, but he took a step closer and shook his head, speaking lowly to you.

“Don’t be shy, Angel.” He rasped, looking down over you with dark eyes. The man before you seemed to be a stranger, nothing like he was in the morning before he left, but in the best possible way. The calm, domineering tone was so different, but it was fantastic all in the same. He looked down at you, his lips curled into a slight smirk as he stood over you at the foot of the bed. The desire he’d been holding back for so long seemed to be coming to the surface. He couldn’t help himself, and a part of you was thankful for it. “Don’t stop, sweetheart. You can put on such a good show.” His eyes lingered over your face, watching you closely to see if you were uncomfortable. Instead of discomfort, you seemed curious, excited, even.

And you were. You didn’t intend for the situation to turn into this, but perhaps it was the best possible outcome. You had been so afraid to have sex with Jake, and for reasons that were completely irrelevant. He was the man you’d fallen so deeply in love with, and someone you wanted to share this part of you with, too. Him walking in on you allowed you to avoid the awkward conversations and nervous stuttering, because you were already worked up to the point of no return. This made the part you were dreading so much easier, and the look in his eye made you feel foolish for ever thinking he wouldn’t love your body just as much as he loved your heart. Something in his expression told you that he would give you all of the direction you needed if you allowed him to do so.

Slowly, you pushed the blanket away from your body, returning your hand to its earlier position. You continued holding his gaze as you brought your middle finger back to your clit, tracing slow circles while he gave you a smile of satisfaction.

“So this is what you get up to when I’m gone all day?” He asked, his tone low and gravelly. He was so overcome with lust that it was impossible to think of anything else. “As soon as I leave, you come up here and play with that pretty little cunt, without me?” His expression was stern, his jaw tense as his teeth clenched together. You could see his cock strained against his pants, and the fact that he was really standing before you rather than existing in your imagination was making the pleasure all the more intense. His words were filthy, but for some reason, it didn’t seem to scare you. You’d been fantasizing about words like that coming from his mouth since the first day you met him.

“Y-yeah,” you nod, stuttering slightly. He didn’t care, nor did he notice, anyway. Your embarrassment was growing smaller with every passing second, and the desire in his eyes made the whole thing seem less terrifying. To see him want you so badly made your stomach twist into knots. He gave you a small smile at the word, happy to see that you weren’t shutting him out. The small expression was enough encouragement for you to keep going.

“Do you think of me, Angel?” He asked, his gaze flickering down to your hand, working carefully to build yourself back up to an orgasm. “Do you wish that I was here doing it, instead?” He asked, reaching one hand down to his cock, adjusting himself in his pants to make it more comfortable while he watched. Your eyes were fixated on his hand, cheeks red at the thought. You wanted to see more, but you weren’t sure what to do next. You were so out of your comfort zone, but something about being able to do it with Jake made it all the more easier. “Come on, baby. Talk to me.” His voice was softer, now, showing you that he was willing to help you through it.

“I-I do,” you nod, catching his eye again. Somewhere in his pupil, he was trying to tell you that it was okay, and you believed it.

“You want to show me what you do when I’m not here?” He asked, gauging your comfort level with his questions.

“Yeah, okay.” You breathe, nodding again. He gave you another smile, licking his lips slightly. To see him look at you in such a way was almost too much to resist. Instead of jumping straight into it, you let him talk you through it, slowly and steadily.

“Keep touching yourself, sweetheart. Just like that.” He said, watching as your hand worked at your cunt. “Then, once you finish, maybe I can show you what it’s like when someone else does it for you.” He posed it like a statement, but he was asking for permission. He needed to touch you so badly, but only if you wanted him to.

“Yes, please.” You whisper, excited at the thought. You were already so close to the edge, spending the last half an hour working yourself up to a climax. The intrusion slowed down your progress, but definitely did not stop it completely. As you finger drifted over your clit, your stomach was burning with the familiar feeling, but it seemed so much more intense than before now that he was watching you. Your eyes fluttered closed as you could feel the pull of pleasure again, your chest rising and falling with your heavy breathing.

“That’s it, baby. Doing such a good job for me.” He said, but it was strained. He wanted to be the one driving you crazy, and it was nearly torture having to watch you and not touch you. You try to hold your moans back, scared to embarrass yourself, but he thought that your state was all but shameful. He thought you were gorgeous, and he felt so lucky to be able to see you like this at all. “Let me hear those pretty noises again, sweet girl.” He pleaded, taking a step closer to the bed. “Don’t be shy with me.” At his permission, your lips parted and a soft moan filled the air. The sound alone nearly drove him to insanity. He watched you carefully, noticing as the muscles in your stomach tensed with every wave of pleasure. He wanted to remember the way you looked in that moment forever.

You were so close to an orgasm, and the desperation was evident in your movements and your voice. He needed it like the starving needed food, and he couldn’t wait much longer. He leaned down over you on the bed, letting his hand drift over your exposed thigh, the touch light but electric.

“Fuck, Jake.” You expressed your thoughts, feeling the pleasure pulsing under your skin and throughout your entire body.

“Look at me, baby.” He said, wanting you to open your eyes. You did as he said, catching the warm brown of his irises and feeling the warmth flood you. Your breath caught in your throat, and your muscles constricted. You were so close, and him looking at you in such a way made it all the more intense. “Let go,” he hummed, giving you a smile. His eyes were heavy and his chest was heaving with every breath. “Come for me, Angel.” And you did, your limbs trembling as the pleasure took hold. You’d never felt like that in your entire life, and it was so intense that it made your head spin and your chest burn. You didn’t think it was possible to feel such a way, but as you looked into Jake’s eyes, you knew it was all because of him. “That’s my girl.” He sighed, leaning down and pressing his lips to the inside of your thigh.

The feeling made you melt into his touch, his lips so delicate against your warm skin. You wanted more; suddenly, your own hand wasn’t enough. You needed him to do it for you, to feel what it was like when he touched you. You reached down, cupping his cheek in your hand as you let your thumb drift over his cheek. He hummed against you, still focused on the feeling of your thigh against his mouth. The longer he left them there, kissing a trail upwards, the sloppier he became. He sucked light marks into the delicate skin as his hand found your hip, pulling you down on the mattress towards him. He wanted you to feel admired, to know how strongly he felt for you. He wanted you to know that the situation did not have to be scary, and he only wanted to make you feel good. He was there for you, and his pleasure came second to all of your needs.

You watched him as he did all he could to showcase his admiration. You were still aching to be touched, the orgasm you had given yourself long gone and barely enough to keep you satisfied. You needed to feel him, you needed him to bring you to such pleasure, and you couldn’t believe you waited so long to feel him like this.

“Are you okay with this, baby?” He asked, looking up to you with his eyes nearly closed from the weight of lust in his stare.

“Yeah, I am.” You assured him. “I’m… I'm okay.”

“You tell me if you need me or want me to stop, okay?” He ordered, settling on his stomach between your legs. “Even if you just want me to slow down… I need you to tell me, sweetheart. Can you do that?” You hummed a response of agreement, but he didn’t move any further. “I need to hear the words, honey.”

“I will, Jake. I promise.” He gave you a soft smile, looking over your face to search for any discomfort. When he saw only excitement, he brought his own hand between your legs. Carefully, he brought his fingers to you, gathering your arousal on his fingers before bringing them to your clit. The feeling was foreign, but as soon as his fingers landed on the sensitive bundle of nerves, the unfamiliarity quickly became obsolete. His rough, calloused fingertips moved slowly over you as his eyes stayed on your face. It was immediately pleasant, way more so than your own hands doing the work.

“How’s that, Angel?” He hummed, his eyes flickering down to his hand that was working at you. His mouth watered from the sight, but he held himself back from going any further until you were comfortable.

“S-so good.” You whined, looking down at his face. The sight of his eyes fixated on your cunt made your stomach burn with desire. All of the fear you felt before was gone; you should have known better than to think Jake would view you as anything other than gorgeous.

“You want me to keep going?” He asked, looking back up at you.

“Yes, please.” You breathed, nodding at him. He gave you a smile, adding a little more pressure to his thumb. The sensation caused you to move your hips down on his hand, searching for more. He kept the pace for a moment, before sliding his thumb in place of his middle finger. He rested his middle and index finger against your entrance, waiting to see your reaction before doing anything else.

“Is this okay?”

“G-god, yes.” You nodded, still sensitive from your first orgasm. Everything he was doing felt fantastic, and you never wanted him to stop. Before going any further, he leaned forward and let a trail of spit fall from his lips to his fingers, making sure that it wouldn’t be uncomfortable for you. You watched, feeling a flutter of emotion rush to your core at the sight. He gave you a small smirk, noticing the reaction. Slowly, he added one finger first, wanting you to grow comfortable with the feeling before going any further. Once he knew you were alright, he added a second.

“There you go, beautiful.” He smiled, noticing your eyebrows furrow with pleasure as a moan fell from your lips. Gently, he pumped his fingers into you a few times, spitting on his hand once again to lubricate them further. “God, you have no idea how much I thought about doing this.” He muttered, more to himself than you.

“Y-you… you think about this?” You asked, your cheeks turning red at the thought.

“Think about it?” He nearly scoffed. “Baby, I dream about it.” He corrected, curling his fingers upwards slightly as his thumb brushed over your clit. You let out a sharp breath, the feeling unfamiliar but incredibly pleasant. “I think about making you feel good, and about how pretty I knew you would look while you cum…” he trailed off, driving himself crazy at his own words. “About how good you’d taste, and how good you’d feel…” he cut himself off, realizing he might be too obscene for you at the moment. You looked down at him, almost as if you were pleading with him to keep going. The knowledge that he thought about you the same way you thought about him made your heart skip a beat. “How good you’d feel wrapped around my cock.” He finished, stronger and more confident. He could feel your walls clench around his finger at the sound of his words.

“I think about you, too, Jake.” You confessed, closing your eyes and letting your head fall back on the pillow. The pleasure was more intense than anything you’d felt before, and his words were making it all the more satisfying.

“Yeah? You think about me touching you like this?” He paused his thoughts, increasing his pace ever so slightly. “Such a dirty little thing.” He teased, smiling up at your blushed face. “I love it.” He made sure that you knew that more than anything else. “How does this feel, gorgeous?”

“It feels so good, Jake.” You assure him, hoping that he won’t stop.

“Can I try something?” He asks, leaning down and pressing a few more kisses into your thighs.

“Y-yeah, okay.” You nod, unsure of what he had in mind, but trusting him more than anything.

“M’gonna use my mouth, okay?” He said, scanning your face. “Is that alright?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, excited at the prospect.

“Just tell me if you want me to stop, okay Angel?”

“Okay.” You nod, your eyes fixated on him as he moved closer to your heat. He moved his thumb from your clit, but you barely have time to mourn the loss before his mouth was on you and his tongue was doing the work, instead. “Oh, fuck.” You whine, reaching down and tangling your hand in his hair. The feeling was more intense, and definitely more powerful. The warmth of his mouth and the wetness of his tongue was like heaven, and so unlike anything you’d felt before. He barely started and you could feel your walls fluttering against his fingers. You were bordering another orgasm, and you weren’t sure how much you could take before you let go.

His tongue moved carefully, but with intent. It drifted over your clit, savoring any bit of arousal still left on you. His eyes were closed as his hips moved down on the mattress, the friction barely relieving the ache of his cock, but making it a little more bearable. Your breathing was shallow, and the feeling of your fingers tangled in his hair was driving him crazy. He pumped his fingers into you as his tongue worked at you, curling his fingers slightly every time he re-entered. The different types of stimulation was not overwhelming, but just enough as they worked together to push you to the edge.

“Fuck, Jake.” You whined. He hummed against you, showing you how much he was enjoying the sound. The vibration ran through you, tightening the knot in your stomach. You were so close, and your skin was tingling with pleasure. “I think… think m’gonna cum, baby.” You warned. He did not pull away, instead he made his movements more pronounced, needing it more than he needed anything more in his entire life. Your mind was flooded with desire for him, and you could only whimper his name.

He was making you feel better than you ever had before, and you were so in love with him at that moment. You couldn’t think of anyone else you’d rather be doing this with, and you felt so comfortable and loved. He adored you, and he was coaxing you so gently to a climax that it was hard to feel any fear or anxiety about it. He was so gentle and kind, his touch soft and his words sweet. He wanted you to get the most out of it, and more than anything, he wanted to make your first time special. He waited so long for this moment, and now that it was here, he was doing everything in his power to make sure you enjoyed it.

The orgasm washed over you hard, making your legs shake and your eyes squeeze shut. Your fingers tightened around the stands of his hair, and you moaned his name as the pleasure took over. The obscenities falling from your lips painted the walls, burying the memory in the room until the end of time. You felt so good that you forgot how to breathe, and your head felt light. As the intensity died down and you relaxed against him, he began to taper his movements off until he came to a complete stop. As you caught your breath, he pulled back from you and looked up at your face. His eyes were heavy, and lust was hanging thick in the air. He needed you, and he did not have to say it aloud; you could feel it.

As he straightened up, his chin was glistening in the dim light, your orgasm lingering on his skin to remind you of the moment. “How was that, beautiful?” He asked, his voice husky. Your mind was still hazy as you admired his face, watching as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt.

“So, so good, baby.” You sighed, giving him a lazy smile.

“You want to keep going?” He asked, standing from the bed. You admired him, shirtless and standing over you. Your head was swimming with joy and your skin was ablaze with desire for him. You made it this far, and you wanted to go all the way. You were more than ready to take the step with him, especially after he was so caring and loving with you just moments before.

“Yes, please.” You whisper, giving him a smile. He returned the expression, slowly undoing his belt buckle, pulling it from the loops. His discarded it on the floor, unbuttoning his jeans and pulling down the zipper. You felt like you were holding your breath as you waited for him to undress, feeling excitement begin to build within you. He slipped out of his jeans, kicking them to the side. Then, he looked at you, making sure you were okay before he took off his boxers. He saw the admiration in your eyes, and it made his stomach flutter with adoration.

“You want me, sweet girl?” He whispered, his jaw tense as he watched you look at him in wonder.

“Yes, please.” You nod, waiting for him to advance further. He gave you a soft smile, pulling off his boxers and throwing them to the side. When he straightened up, your breath caught in your throat. He was stunning. The discreet toned muscles in his abdomen that were so often hidden by clothes took your breath away. The soft v-line leaning down from his hips was delicious, and you could feel the arousal begin to grow once more. When he stepped closer, the light seemed to shine on him a little more. You could see all of him, and he was breathtaking.

His cock was painfully hard, the tip red and glistening with pre-cum, and it was so enticing. Seeing all of him was something so special, and you almost regretted not doing it sooner. He kneeled before you on the bed, settling between your legs as he smiled down at you. “Hi, gorgeous.” He hummed, his expression sweet and his eyes showing you nothing but love.

“Hi,” you grinned, feeling excitement overtake all of the anxiety. He reached to the other side of the bed, grabbing a pillow.

“Lift your hips for me, sweetheart.” He said. You did as he told you, and he slid the cushion underneath you. “Should make it a little more comfortable.” He promised, leaning down and bracing his arm beside your head. He gave you a stupid smile that told you how enthusiastic he was. You couldn’t help but smile back, finding his joy infectious. He leaned a little further down, capturing you in a kiss. You melted into the feeling, so relieved at the comfortable and familiar feeling after so many new sensations. You closed your eyes, cupping his cheek in your hand to hold him to you. You wanted to live in the moment with him forever.

He didn’t rush you, kissing you softly for as long as you needed. It was messy, but it was beautiful. His teeth pulled your bottom lip between them, teasing you slightly. You smiled against him, finding the playfulness soothing. “I love you, Jake.” You mumble against his lips.

“I love you so much, Angel.” He whispers, looking down over your face. “I think you’re the most beautiful thing in the whole world, you know that right?” Your cheeks burn red, but you can’t hold back your smile. “You’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen, and I’m so lucky to have you.”

“I’m lucky to have you.” You sigh, your chest aching with the amount of love you have for him.

“Thank you for trusting me, y/n.” His voice is full of emotion now. The lust took the back burner, second to his love and appreciation for you.

“Thank you for being someone I can trust.” He smiled at your words, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours once more.

“Are you ready? If not, I can wait.” He assured you.

“I am.” You promised. “I’m ready.” He gave you another kiss, biting back another smile. He felt giddy with you, like it was his first time again, too. The strength in which he felt for you nearly brought him to his knees. He leaned back, looking down over your body with a look on his eyes you weren’t sure he’d ever seen before. It was so full of emotion that it made your stomach twist into knots. He spit into his hand, stroking himself before lining himself up with your entrance. He looked to you for approval, and you gave a slight nod of your head.

“It might be a little uncomfortable, so just tell me if it is, okay? Just want you to feel good, baby.”

“I will.” His concern with your pleasure was driving you crazy. He guided your legs around him and waited for a moment, giving you the chance to change your mind. When you said nothing, he slowly pushed himself inside of you.

The feeling was different, but not unpleasant. It took a moment to get used to it as he fully buried himself in you. He paused before moving any further, looking to see if you were okay. You couldn’t help but notice how full you felt, how well he fit with you, and how right it felt. You caught his eye, letting out a little sigh of satisfaction. The small sound nearly pushed him over the edge as he sat, completely still inside of you. His cock twitched slightly, the knowledge that you were enjoying him sending him feral.

“You want to wait, or do you want me to keep going?”

“Keep going, please.” You breathed, wanting more. He gave you a small smile, moving his hips ever so slightly. You tended slightly, adjusting to the feeling, but as he continued, it began to grow more comfortable. Soon after, prickles of pleasure started to ignite your skin. “Oh, Jake.” You sigh, letting your head fall back on the pillow. “That feels… so good.” His jaw clenched at your words, thrilled at your enjoyment.

“Yeah? You like it, baby?” He asked, reaching down and letting his fingers dust over your bare stomach. They trailed all the way to your chest as he cupped your breast in his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. His thumb toyed with your nipple, the small sensation sending a shiver down your spine.

“I do,” you breathe, nodding your head.

“So fucking tight,” he muttered to himself. “You feel so fucking good, angel. Doing so good for me.” Your walls clenched around him as he spoke, drawing him in further. He wasn’t moving very fast, but the feeling was more than enough. It was exactly what you’d been waiting for, even if you didn’t realize it before. Slowly, he began to pick up the pace, unable to hold himself back any longer. “Tell me if you need me to slow down, baby.”

“I will,” you moaned, feeling the intensity begin to build in your belly again. “God, Jake. F-faster, please.” You pleaded. He let out a groan, resembling more of a growl than anything else. He grabbed your hips, pulling you down towards him a little further. His thrusts sped, and he put a little more force behind his movements. He looked down, watching how your bodies fit together, feeling a whole new sense of desire as your hips met his with every thrust.

“You’re so fucking hot.” He groaned, leaning down and pulling you into a kiss. He’d waited so long to feel you like this, and he was afraid he might not be able to hold himself back.

“Fuck, Jake.” You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down closer to you. His hands on your hips felt so good, his fingers burning into you in the most intoxicating way. You felt better than you ever did before, and you never wanted to stop feeling that way. He was so enchanting, and everything he was doing was euphoric. You felt like you were melting into him, both of you becoming one as the fire burned in your hearts.

“Need you to cum for me one more time, angel. Just one more.” He pleaded, pulling you down on him as he thrusted into you. The angle he was hitting was intoxicating, pulling you in further with every move of his hips. His lips met your again in a heated kiss, your chests heaving as the intensity continued to consume you. Your stomach was twisted in knots and your forehead was glistening with sweat. Your whole body felt like it was ablaze with pleasure, and you needed more than he could give.

He pulled back from you, his hips still keeping a steady pace as his hand reached between you, circling around your clit once again. The second sensation to hold with a fervent appetite, consuming you entirely and making it impossible to think of anything else. His fingers on you and his cock filling you up was pushing you to euphoria, and your vision began to blur. Your mind was hazy as you tried to focus on his face, wondering how you got so lucky to be with someone so beautiful.

“You think you can give me one more, beautiful?” He asked, his voice shaking as he spoke. He was holding himself back to make sure you were pleased, but the idea of him being such a mess for you was driving you even closer to insanity. The most pleasurable part of the whole thing was knowing how good he felt, and how much he loved pleasing you.

“Y-yeah,” you managed a nod, looking up at him with desperate eyes. Your muscles were tightening as you tensed, preparing for the wave of pleasure about to wash over you. The burning in the pit of your stomach was familiar now, and you knew that he was the only one who knew how to get you there.

“Cum for me, baby.” He said, his thumb circling the sensitive bundle of nerves with precision. Your legs locked around him began to tremble, and your breathing was ragged. You were so close, and you needed it. More than that, you needed him to cum at the same time.

“Cum with me, please.” You pleaded, admiring the look of pleasure twisting his expression. He let out a groan at your words, his eyebrows knitting together as his hair hung down over his face. You’d never seen Jake look so ethereal before, and it was driving you mad.

“That’s what you want, angel? That will make you happy?”

“Please, Jake.” You said, reaching up and clasping your fingers around his bicep.

“Anything for my girl,” he muttered, his head falling back as he let out a string of curses. He even made the obscenities sound beautiful. You watched as the columns of his neck tightened and his Adams apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, sweat dripping delicately down across his skin. Strands of hair stuck to the damp skin, framing him in a picture you wished to burn into your mind until the end of time.

The climax hit you hard, and you clenched around him, crying his name as you felt the pleasure fill you completely. He didn’t have time to nurture you through it, because at the same time, his orgasm washed over him. As you rode out the high, his hips stuttered and a breathy moan fell from his lips. He spilled his release inside of you, the feeling so addicting that it forced you into another wave of pleasure. Heavy breathing was the only sound in the room, and after the intensity began to fade, Jake leaned down and wrapped you in his arms. Without withdrawing from you, he turned on his back and pulled you on top of him. With a giggle, you landed comfortably in his arms with a smile so wide it made your cheeks ache.

You rested your head on his chest, your skin still tingling with the ghost of your orgasm. You placed a kiss to the skin, feeling his heart thud against his ribcage. His hand trailed down your back, his fingers tickling you slightly as he traced shapes into your skin. For a moment, neither of you spoke, and you didn’t need to; the whole world felt perfect.

“How was that, angel?” He asked, reaching up and tucking your hair behind your ear. You grinned down at him, unable to put your thoughts into words. “Are you okay?”

“I’m great, Jake.” You assured him, leaning into the touch of his hand.

“You’re not hurt, are you? I wasn’t too rough?” His hand shot to your hip as he looked down, trying to see if he left any marks on you. He was panicking, worried that he hadn’t taken good enough care of you. The last thing he wanted was for you to be in pain.

“It was perfect, my love. It was better than I could have ever imagined.” You promised, leaning down and placing a soft kiss on his lips. He relaxed against you, feeling better at the sound of your words.

“So… it was good? You… you liked it?” He said, his own nerves getting the best of him. You could feel him start to go soft inside of you, but neither of you cared to move. You laid together, smiling in bliss at the moment.

“It was phenomenal… I had a fantastic time.” You said, blushing slightly. “Thank you, Jake. For everything.”

“You don’t have to thank me for anything, beautiful.” He pulled your head down so he could place a kiss to your forehead. “It was my pleasure.”

“I do, though. Thank you for being patient, and thank you for caring enough to wait it out. And… thank you for making my first time so special. I’ve always been kind of… afraid, I guess, and you made it so easy.”

“I’m glad I could do that for you, angel. You’re my biggest priority, and I just want to make sure you’re happy and comfortable, and I want you to have a good time.”

“I had such a good time.” You smiled, laying your head on his chest again. “Do you… you think maybe we can do it again, soon?” His grip tightened on you as he let out a small chuckle.

“Sweetheart, we can do it whenever you want. All you have to do is say the word.” He promised.

“I love you so much, Jake.” You whisper, pressing another kiss to his chest with a smile on your lips.

“You have no idea how much I love you, sweetheart.” He said, kissing the top of your head. “You are everything I’ve ever wanted and more.”

491 notes · View notes

mooishbeam · 7 months

Text

『♡』 Treasures of the Fraud

♡ featuring: pantalone x f!reader

♡ summary: it's been forever since you've seen your friend, and as the hero of liyue, a new interruption has arisen. you pursue it, only to find memories awaiting you. wc: 9.1k+ (D:)

♡ cw/tw: long lonnggg fic, obsession, mentions of murder, mention of suicide, mentions of blood, manipulation, toxic pantalone, mean pantalone, possessive, spanking, degradation, mild praise, fingering, thigh riding, missionary, overstim, begging, edging, comeshot, pet names (darling, slut)

notes: helloooo!! ive been slow to get stuff out college is kicking my ass rn so sorry. not proofread so i apologize for any mistakes. I can't wait to have more time :) art by yion_yi on ig! <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated!

12 years ago

“Come get me!”

The boy with inky curls spiraling down his back dips through trees, ducking under low hanging branches embellished with vibrant autumn foliage. Messy blends of pink and purple melt across the slowly bleeding sun carried into the night. His silhouette resembles that of a malevolent spirit peeking behind the boughs, leaping over tangled twigs and shallow ditches. His excited screeches signal you to chase after the leading direction. You’re both screaming and laughing down the undoubtedly dangerous shortcuts. If your mother knew about the adventurous risks you were taking at 13, you’d never leave the house again. Tag is a troubling game—despite the thousands of times you’ve played with him, you regularly end up being “it”. You don’t care about losing, though; having someone to call a friend is enough.

You turn into a clearing with columns of trees overseeing your small presence, hundreds of them. The colder night is rising, not a celestial body to shield. In this deep blue void, the leaves seem to be aggrieved at your interruption of some secret meeting, angry and smiling faces crumpling in the whispering wind. You spin around frantically, looking for signs or laughter, but neither reveal themself. It’s quiet besides the downy linger of grass. Your shoulders are snatched back and shaken to a rattling shock. You scream, and he laughs.

“Rahhh! Did I get you?” he jests. Your eyebrows narrow, and you push him lightly to a stumble.

“You scared me!”

“Hah, that’s the point. C’mon, it’s late. Let’s go.” He's scared too, swiftly grabbing your hand as you both brave the darkness back to the village.

“We should’ve been home a while ago” you say quietly. You feel the chill in your bones and press yourself closer to him.

“Yea.” He holds your hand tighter at the sound of a small rock bouncing down a steep hill.

“I had fun today. Let’s do this again tomorrow.”

“I have something to tell you.”

“Okay.”

“I’m moving in the morning” he states. It was nonchalant, but your stomach turns a churning sickness. One you can’t understand yet, it makes you uneasy.

“Oh. Okay, then.” It isn't okay, not in the slightest. But it had to be. Your best friend of 8 years looks at you, aiming to register the gravity of the situation. You both say nothing, but tears start to brim in your eyes in the silence. You wipe them with your arm.

“Will you miss me?” he asks.

“A lot.”

“I’ll miss you too. Lots and lots.” He sways your interlocking hands. You pass by vacant homes tattered and aged by abandonment, overgrown with invading ivy. Homeless reside, caring each other to warmth from the freezing draft. You were lucky to have a home in this little forgotten sector of Liyue. It's a small, unfortunate room, with holes in the roof that drips when it rains and bags over the windows to keep the heat in. The stove never works, and you share a bed with your mother, but every birthday she makes sure to save just enough for a slice of cake with one candle. There isn’t more you could ask for. Everyone in the village suffered from poverty but they made it work, sharing crops and dairy to persevere until the next year. That’s how you met him, sitting on a rock as your mother collected rations. You perform two pebbles in your hands, mumbling sea shanties while imagining voyage on a grueling journey—he sat next to you.

“Those aren’t dolls. They’re rocks.”

“You’re a rock” you retorted.

“No, I’m not.”

“Do you want to be a rock?”

“...That’d be kinda cool.” You gave him a pile of pebbles, and he joined the trip.

You’re getting closer to the village, still processing who you’ll play with once he’s gone. You glance at him, he’s spaced out in a faraway stare. You crave the power to read minds.

“Can we talk about something? I’m getting sad” you sniffle.

“What should be talk about?”

“What are you going to do after you move?”

“I’m gonna be super rich” he assures, looking up at the starless sky as if a meteor would shoot across and grant his wish. “What about you?”

“I’m going to save the world” you proclaim.

“Cool. I hope you do.”

“Me too.”

You arrive at your makeshift door drawn together with scraps of wood and twisted rope for hinges. A dim candle glimmers inside, most likely your vexed mother waiting for your tardily return. He makes space for your entry, and you undo your hands for the last time. Before you go, he snatches your wrist. His eyes are foggy, cheeks an anxious tinge of pink. He isn’t sure what he’s feeling, but the strings in his heart are tense. His mouth shapes to say something, but nothing returns.

“Yeah?”

“...I... I’ll really miss you a lot” he whispers with a lump in his throat.

“Then don’t forget me, okay?”

“I won’t.”

“You promise?” you say and raise your pinky towards him. He curls around it. “I promise.”

“Good. By the way, you’re it now.”

“I’ll get you back when I see you again!” he chuckles. You bid your goodbyes, unaware that it would mark the unforeseen conclusion.

Leaves crunch under your feet as you make your leisurely traverse to Liyue Harbor. It’s just before sunrise and you finished helping the elderly in Qingce Village carry copious amounts of heavy produce to their homes. The thankful candies from seniors' jingle in your pocket as you stretch your weary arms. Your mom offered to cook, but you're determined to locate the best commissions Katheryne had before afternoon. “Maybe I’ll pick up some rice buns” you think out loud at the rumble of your growing appetite. You still had a long way to go before you got to the harbor.

This was your new normal. After your thundering battle with Ningguang and Keqing against Osial, you became an example of Liyue’s triumph. You also became more aware of Fatui tactics, wiping out their swarms with the raging fury of your pneuma and swinging vision. Days of grueling bloodshed resulted in your victory, cementing you as the lionheart of Liyue. Beat up and bruised, the only request you made after your fight was a hot meal and a place for your mom to retire. They delivered both, and you used your recent hero status to provide help to the villagers where needed, be it casual favors or ruthless assault on Fatui agents. You were neither rich nor poor, and lived off the land and kindness of the Liyue Qixing. They often suggested you focus on less mundane tasks, but to you, the most vulnerable age groups warranted priority. There was something about the lighthearted innocent squeals of children and mellow grandparents rocking in their wooden chairs that made you protective to an almost volatile extent.

Bustling interactions of trade and commerce carry through the wind as you enter the harbor—a sound that’s brought you peace for years. The smell of food vendors has you drooling instantly. As you devour the complimentary rice bun, you feel the yank of a little hand on your skirt. You look down and a boy with brown hair searches for familiarity in your face. You recognize him, babysitting him numerous times. You kneel and pat his head, but he doesn’t react or move.

“Hey, what’s up? Where are your parents?” you question, briefly scanning your immediate area for his family. He’s hesitant to speak, as if he can’t find the panicked words, and rushes into your arms. You hug him instinctively and let him sniffle into your shoulder. You pick him up in your grasp and raise his head with your other hand so that he’ll hopefully be open to your compassion.

“Can you tell me what’s wrong?” The boy wipes his chubby tomato-red face. “Grandma is on the floor, what do I do?” You quell your rising nerves to suppress his alarm and speak calmly.

“Where is she?”

Speed walking towards the destination, the commotion of a small crowd surrounds a kneeling woman in the distance. She’s on her sun-spotted hands and knees, wailing for some bygone Archon. “Grandma!” he yells and jumps out of your arms. You run after him, relieved that the worst case scenario hadn’t occurred. You push through the group and get eye level with her, forehead pressed to the ground spouting religious scripture.

“Are you okay? Do you need medical assistance?” Wise sunken eyes wrinkled with age and torn by tragedy stick to your heart. Her feeble hands encapsulate yours, and tears stream down her cheeks. “They took my baby!” she rasps, rocking back and forth. “Who did?” you ask, and she weeps harder. “They took her memory...my baby, my daughter!” You support her weight and lift her hunched figure off the pavement. “What did they look like, ma’am?”

“A black hood...red mask” she recalls shakily. Instantly miscellaneous chatter ensues. They whisper nervously in each other's ears, he who shall not be named steals their voices. “Fatui probably got ‘er” you hear the mumble of one. Fatui. Your blood boils at the word, and you direct your view to the shrinking man with hands in his pockets. “‘He’ got all of us” he scoffs. “Did they hurt you guys, too?” you ask, and they stare. They’re pained but accepting.

“500,000 mora.”

“194,000 for me.”

They list off their debt one by one, and you’re horrified at the accumulating number. They seem to endure, however; no longer phased by the incurable tally haunting their lives. “H-how are you paying any of this?”

“We can’t. It adds up. Interest, late payments, it always does. So, we give everything, and ‘he’ takes everything, until we have nothing left. We die poor without a possession to our name” a woman sighs. As a child, you heard of the loan sharks that purposely fed false promises to the poor, and once they were reeled in, charged insurmountable payments to blackmail—it was the origin story of most people in your birthplace. Your soul aches for them, but is there anything you can do?

“...I’ll help you, all of you. I’m sure I can-”

Ningguang arrives. She's a nurturing figure to you, the kind that asks if you’ve been eating well and politely scolds you. “What happened?” You lead the tired elder to the Jade Chamber, and she tells her story through choked sobs. You didn’t expect Keqing to already be there, arms folded and turned away from the situation. Ningguang can barely glance at the woman.

“They stormed my home and took my jewelry and belongings. They took the pendant my daughter gave me; it had her face in it. Archons give me strength, my baby! I can’t afford it; I have nothing!” she quakes. You rub her back and Ningguang nods, listening—you can’t help but notice the anxiety blooming on her abstracted face. They take her through the process and once she leaves, Ningguang and Keqing look at each other with a silent understanding. The room is eerily quiet, and Ningguang paces back and forth in front of the intel wall contemplating an uncertain danger. You fumble with your thumbs.

“What are we going to do about this?” you wonder. Keqing clears her throat loudly, attracting the attention of Ningguang. She looks at you, and sighs deeply. “We already know about this issue.”

Your ears perk up. “Great, so how can I help?”

“By doing nothing, (Y/N)” Keqing says.

“...What?”

“I have eyes everywhere; I’ve known for a long time. The Fatui are not people to be taken lightly, especially the harbingers. A few of their skirmishers were caught trading exotic goods and taxing medicine at high prices, on top of extorting the impoverished regions.” Ningguang points to one of the many Fatui exclusive headquarters on the wall. “Pantalone is the richest man in Teyvat, he has more political influence than anyone can imagine, and they answer to him. We can’t risk getting involved with this. They’ve brought this upon themselves, and unfortunately, they must deal with the consequences.”

You can’t accept this response. How can they just desert them? It doesn’t comprehend in your naïvity—you scold yourself for not spotting the signs sooner, furrowing your brows and looking at them with distaste. “I expected this. You shouldn’t have said anything” Keqing chides. “...Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve helped before-”

“You’re the last person I wanted to know about this” Ningguang interrupts. Your anger feels misplaced, and you bite your lip in restraint. She sits next to you and offers fleeting comfort with a graceful hand on yours. “You’re quite the reactionary type. In due time, this will be sorted. But right now, I need you to calm down, and trust me.” It sounds desperate, you know you shouldn’t go looking for answers, but a snagging thread pulls at the back of your consciousness, all too convincing. You bounce your leg. “You should want revenge just as much as me. Where we came from, where they end up, it isn’t fair.”

“You know I do, more than anything. But we must handle this with care, before too many people get hurt. I’m doing this for the betterment of Liyue as a whole. It’s not easy to make these decisions.”

“We can’t just go around serving justice, there’s laws we have to act with” Keqing adds. You don’t reply and stand up abruptly to leave. The worried Tianquan grabs your wrist one last time. “Promise me you won’t make a mistake, (Y/N). I’m trying to protect you” she pleads.

“I promise. Thank you.” You flash a half genuine smile, already planning to rebel against her wishes.

Who exactly is ‘he’—Pantalone. You don’t even know where to start looking. Too many headquarters, infinite possibilities. The best way you have to find him is through Fatui agents.

You start taking up odd jobs late in the evening, scouring for the possibility that a fatui agent might fall into your hands. Though you considered playing the part of an impoverished villager taking out a loan at Northland Bank, it didn’t guarantee that you’d meet Pantalone in the flesh—it’s more likely that would raise unnecessary suspicion in the process. It’s awkward at first, seeing the hero of Liyue fish on the dock for petty change throughout the night. As you do, the malicious fire in your eyes burns bright at the occasional voice in chill silence. Your vision glows as you toss the hunting knife between your nimble digits. Listening closely to conversations, hoping that one might be unguarded enough to slip up, but nothing of the sort appears—not even the boldness of Fatui skirmishers enables them to divulge secrets under the baleful existence of Celestia.

The moon illuminates sweetly on the tranquil waters lulling you to drowse. You hadn’t heard much since the start of your escapade. A fishing pole is weak in your resistless hold, and you’ve evidently given up on the idea of portraying the hardworking fisherman tonight. You vowed to help the people of Liyue, but justice was seemingly unfeasible. Maybe a direct approach? Should I ambush their headquarters? More so a suicide mission, you’d have no luck achieving that. Just as you’re about to leave, the crunch of withering grass straightens your posture. You make yourself hidden with a burst of energy and slouch behind the bushes as a Fatui pyro agent charges along the route. Through the glutted leaves obstructing your vision, you can just make out the heavy bag on his shoulder and jagged blade waiting restlessly on the other. His stride points towards Qingce Village. You hold your breath disguising yourself with the scenery and allow him to take a few feet between you before you begin following him. He’s rather shifty, those veiled eyes darting back and forth at the lightest noise. You’re careful to glide behind trees, moving with the heartbeat of the wind and taking advantage of the various melody's nature offers. You suck in a breath and duck behind a boulder a few inches too close, and his head snaps in your direction. The feeling of being watched besets him, but with no way to prove it and time running out, he secures his knife for the hypothetical ambush, and makes haste towards the target. Turning a tree, you watch as the pyro wielder knocks on the house of a small worn cottage. A short stocky man appears, shading half his body behind the door.

“H-hello...” you hear faintly. The Fatui keeps his hand firm on the door, one boot propped under the hinge. He presents the flaming knife loosely as he towers over the man. “We’ve given you time.” You were sure now that he's working for Pantalone.

“I don’t have it. P-please, if you could just give me some more-” He slams his fist against the wood, a resounding thump shakes the home. The man cowers. “Give me everything you have. The Regrator won’t wait any long-”

A small rock flies past his mask, skidding on the ground until it comes to a stop. He glares in the direction of the tree you’re hiding behind. You have no plan, nothing but the distracting impulse to stop the assailant from attacking. “Stay here” he commands, and stalks towards you. His slow footsteps get increasingly louder, playful stomps toying with your obvious whereabouts. He twirls the razor-sharp knife, and as he sharply peeks around the corner, you’re nowhere to be found. “Here, kitty kitty” he taunts, spinning towards the lake, then the village grounds for footprints. He severs the air aimlessly in mirth, believing some amateur fighter came to challenge him. As he monitors the tracks under you, you drop down from the wiry branches. Legs wrap tight around his neck, and you catch hold of his hood trying to pull his mask off. He gags but he’s too quick, throwing off your steadiness as he slams your spine on the grass. He whips around to take a stab at your chest, but you roll away guarding the vital arteries. You kick him in the crotch, and he recoils giving you ample time to stand.

You can’t feel the wet laceration dripping down your abdomen as you take a slash at his throat with your weapon, infused with elemental energy. He leans back and meets your strike. You trade blows, the strength of your smite bursting sparks of light above the scratches and bruises. Your wrist burns with the unmoving knives stumbling you. He begins to manifest blazing knives circling his figure, and you jump back from the singing cut melting the cloth. You wipe the dried blood from your mouth, and in the blink of an eye, he disappears. Suddenly, red auras similar to the pyro agent surround you. One by one, the clones charge at you, and you parry their overhead onslaught. Something is different about the last clone, your vision revealing a brighter outline than the others. When the next clone attacks, as you counter you pretend to fall for his trick. With your eyes on the other, he immediately passes through the black fog to deal the killing blow. You’re quicker this time and heave a heavy tear into his chest. Crimson splatters the grass, it shatters his element and rips open the robe. You tackle him on the dirt and wrestle until you kick his weapon away. Your knee digs into his back, and he can barely breathe with his arm locked behind him and knife rigid against his neck. He ttempts to swing at you, but you wrench his arm tighter and slice into his skin just enough to draw blood.

“Fuck. Okay!” he wheezes. “Where is Pantalone?”

“I don’t know what you’re- shit!” You’ve lost patience long ago and twist his arm to dislocate the shoulder. He lets out a blood curdling scream thrashing in pain—you tug hard and focus him. “Shut up and answer my question. Where is Pantalone?” you demand. He hisses in pain and coughs up phlegm mixing with reddening soil. “Kill me.”

“Just tell me and I’ll let you go.”

“I’m a dead man, either way.” he rasps and hangs his head waiting for the execution. You grit your teeth; a drop of guilt leaves a bad taste as you thwack the pressure point on his neck that forces him unconscious. You glance at the bag he left and limp over to rummage through the contents. Useless papers crumple under stolen items, but one note catches your eye. Presumably a to-do list, you read to the bottom. A list of homes, goods on standby exchanges—at the bottom of those, a rendezvous point:

Report back- Yilong Bank, Liyue

You rest in a plot of prickly bushes and leave in the morning after patching yourself up. You couldn’t stop now, not when you were this close to facing him. You soothe your body from the twigs prodding you all night, and check the wound suppressed by gauze. It’s a light scar now, apparent after bathing in the warm water on the outskirts of Qingce. You contemplated telling Ningguang about what occurred, but imagining the look on her face once she knew kept you moving.

Tucking your vision where it can’t be viewed, you take a waverider to Yilong Port into the afternoon. You concoct a half-baked scheme, one that relies on every scenario being perfect to a tee. Unreliable, but probably your only chance. The plan amounts to scaling the building and breaking in through the office window, snatching everything owned by the villagers and breaking out before anyone notices. Easy in your capabilities, but you have no idea what the building looks like, nor do you know where the office is. The man driving wears all black, an outfit that stands out from the rest of the region. He stares at you blankly, and once you’re aware, you meet eyes. His smile is uncanny, stretching across his face with an abnormal friendliness.

“Is this your first time at the port?” he asks, finger tapping the wheel. Be it sleep deprivation or ignorance; you don’t recognize red flags in his behavior. You smile at the courteous face. “Yeah, the weather’s beautiful out here.”

“Mhm, hot weather up here. On vacation?”

“Nah, I have business here.” The minuscule edge of your vision catches in the light. He homes in on the passing twinkle. You wonder why his eyes widen momentarily, and his finger starts to tap methodically, as if memorizing a coded pattern.

“Business...what kind?”

“Oh...I have some items to trade.” You close off your answers feeling that you’ve said too much. He subsides with a stale expression. “If you’re looking to trade, you might find luck at Yilong Bank” he utters monotonously.

“And where is that?” You feign disinterest, but victory is too loud on your tongue.

“Up the mountain.” The waverider halts at the harbor, and he turns his head away from you unusually cold, akin to a mechanical bot shutting down. “Welcome to Yilong Port.”

You make yourself invisible in the crowd and wait for nightfall. People still roam the port along with Fatui monitoring the front of the bank, which gives you leeway to blend in as you find passage around the back of the mountain. It’s a steep, dark incline jutted with irregular jagged stones. The imposing size of the climb tangles knots in your stomach, and you wipe the persistent sweat on your top. In one huge leap, you latch onto a craggy indent, and begin your ascension.

Your legs feel like jelly with each contact of the unforgiving breeze. You sway alongside the spirit of anemo and swallow your anxiety before leaping to the next rock. Shoes plant into rock and nails excavate fresh cobble on the next jump. By the time you’ve realized, you’re already up most of the mountain. You tug yourself even with the land as a barreling gust of wind goads your glance to the ground, kilometers beneath you. Your breath stills, and for a second dizziness overtakes your nerves at the thought of slipping. I could die, one mistake and I’m dead. You focus, and spring to the next piece. Without warning, rock gives way into pebbles at the weight of your foot. You nearly plunge, but anchor onto the small bump out with one hand. You’re dangling off the edge, playing with death while you fortify your body. Hyperventilation makes your heartbeat thrum incessantly and stress palpitates tired muscles; If you didn't have your vision, you would’ve fainted to your demise. You bite the bullet, push your heels in and persevere through the hurdles. The next thing you clutch is malleable in your palm. You vault over the cliff, the smell of dew is overwhelming. The back of the bank—the end goal—is visible.

One Fatui member remains in the front. You scale up the building effortlessly, nothing compared to the hell you just went through. Shifting window to window, your eyes land on the pitch-black darkness of the room at the top of the building. An ideal glow casts on the fraction of precious gold resting on a coffee table. This has to be it. You slink through the window soundlessly, and land on the balls of your feet. Analyzing the dish, you don’t discern the pendant. You can faintly identify some bookshelves near the dish, and tiptoe further inside. You creep around luxury sofas, and squint at the embellished glass case next to the door, containing all manner of jewelry and valuable possessions. You won; this was it. You scurry to it, moving with abrupt carelessness. One more step.

Click

The fireplace you didn’t heed is set aflame. It flickers sneering shadows on the opposite wall and brightens the case. You pause and hope. There’s a confining silence stirring in the room, like someone is with you. The case is visible now, and so is the key to opening it.

You fell into a trap.

“Looks like I have a little thief on my hands.”

A bittersweet voice in the sable, reminiscent of rich dark chocolate, rolls off the room. He steps out obscurity behind his desk and your eyes adjust, revealing the tight black turtleneck compressing his willowy torso and gloves adorned with silver rings. You can’t see the upper part of his face, but the chains of his glasses hang in front of that duping smile. You expected the Fatui harbinger to be on the stronger side, physically intimidating. It’s not physical, but you feel a certain fear boiling in your body. He’s not terrifying, but you tremble. His presence makes your hair stand and sends waves of goosebumps up your arms. You can’t find the will to move your wobbly legs. His charmed laugh rings in your ears and causes you to hold your breath. He has no vision; you shouldn’t be afraid. You could take him on easily, why can’t you fight?

“Hello, honored hero of Liyue” the headless man taunts. It makes it worse that he knows who you are. How long had he known you were coming? Was your plan doomed from the beginning? Your feet are stuck in molasses as your fight or flight shuts down at the man before you.

“Now, tell me. What is the little thief doing, barging into my office to take the possessions I worked so hard for? Not very heroic of you, If I may say.” There’s power in his stature—you forget how to speak. He holds his palm out to you. Tangled between his fingers, is the ornate golden pendant you’d been searching for, a woman’s face in the frame. Your eyes widen, and the sweet familiar curve of his lips stretches in amusement.

“Is this what you’re looking for?” The plod of low-heeled boots accompanies unveiled darkness, and you can observe his entirety. Amethyst eyes drunk with an orchid hue pool into your being. Lazy curls brush against his glasses and kiss his porcelain skin. He’s beautiful, a calm enticing rip current that sweeps you with immeasurable pressure before you can pull yourself out. He leans on the desk, observing the chain halfheartedly. If you weren’t careful, you’d mistake the look on his face for genuine kindness; you’d drown, just like he craved. Nonetheless, you can’t shake the emotion his smile grants.

“Yes. That’s all I need, and I won’t bother you again” you whisper meekly, hoping that he’d let you go with the pendant in a spur of forgiveness. The jest in his eyes says something different.

“Come get it.”

Come get it. Your mind begins to piece the man into a stage of your life you’d forgotten. It can’t be him. Memory tells intrusive truth in short flashes. Inky curls spiraling in front of you as you chase. He was consistently miles ahead of you. It was irrelevant how far apart you were; he’d always find you. That big, curving smile for every match he won. Purple eyes glancing back at yours; the same ones that withheld tears when you said goodbye.

“Come get me!”

Tears stream down your eyes for the friend you thought you’d never see again. Childhood laughter bleeds into his current cat-like conniving snicker, and you gaze at his face.

“I... remember you” you choke. He looks up without a smile, perceiving an unexpected thought, and meets your eyes. There’s a hint of affection in the warm smile beaming on his face. “My my, (Y/N). You have quite the memory.”

You’re motionless, full of something that catches in your lungs. This isn’t the triumph you wanted, and now that you’re face to face you feel powerless. He must’ve known the entire time. Watching you fight and work alone, sending Fatui to roam in Liyue, all done to toy with you. Your lip quivers, swelling in your already deafening heartbeat.

“How long...” you utter. He inquires with the tilt of his head.

“How long have you been messing with me?” Your eyes adhere to the floor, pride that won’t permit you to shed misery for Pantalone. He drinks in your resistant frame, the kind he desires to break; perhaps this game of cat and mouse isn’t done, after all.

“This hurts me too, (Y/N). I wouldn’t be doing this if you weren’t so…persistent.” Your confusion spills over in shaky, weak huffs. You can’t maintain your composure, and make yourself first to oppose the authoritative man on his own territory.

“How could you do this to anyone? We grew up poor!” You shout with balling fists.

“It’s inefficient to dwell on the past” he replies with gentle cadence and languid grace unrepresentative of his cruel tactics. You nearly regret raising your voice.

“These people are at their wits end and you’re taking advantage of them” you chide. He slowly paces towards you. Pantalone looks down on you from height disparity, but the royal glower pities you, judges worth you can’t see.

“Driven by emotions, are you that simple? You presumed that if you stormed in here, and professed a touching story, that I would suddenly see the error in my methods?” You’re not sure what you’re here for anymore or why you haven’t left yet. Subconscious urges can't determine if they should slap or hug the man inching towards you. “I simply enforce contracts and exchanges. No one can be swindled by a debt accreted on their own.”

“No one asks to be poor either” you interject. Pantalone’s a foot away from you now, analyzing your reactions to his personal entertainment. He recalls the blurry past—the pranks you pulled together that ultimately failed from your loud hurried sneakiness tripping to alert the farmers, helping out for loose change so that you’d split a snack between each other that wasn’t big enough to share, gazing at the twinkling night imagining a distant future—you changed and stayed the same, but he keeps wanting more.

“Weigh the odds. They either die impoverished or live by passage of loans. I merely provide a service. Does that make me so cruel?” You can’t find an answer.

“You’ll always be my friend, but I need it back. It can’t be much to forgive someone’s debt” you plead.

“You still consider me a friend?”

“I think…you’re hurt. And you’re trying to heal. We all are. I know I’ve dealt with a lot as I’ve gotten older and I think you have, too. Power corrupts even the best people in this world, so maybe you’re not a bad person. But you’re doing bad things, and this isn’t the right way to get better.”

Pantalone is quiet for a few long moments. His hands web his face, but you can clearly see the pearly fangs in his open-mouthed smirk. Then he laughs—dulcet and mocking, it lingers for too long as he throws his head back and relishes the obtuse notion. He gazes with insulting compassion and stalks towards you.

“Incredibly…. gullible. Mora is the pathway to all endeavors. Devoid of gnosis or divine knowledge, wealth has rendered me impervious to control. Suffering and destitution only manifest if I will it. I am the guise of a false god, an emblem of achievement.” It’s borderline delusional the way he regards himself, arms moving in theatric grandeur, the star of his own opera.

“Does that make you feel good? Stepping on the backs of the community that raised you, and abandoning them because they chose not to be influenced by greed?” Pantalone towers over you. His fingers brush light against your sensitive ears, trail to your clenched jaw, and finally cup your frustrated cheeks with the cradle of a long-lost lover.

“It does, in fact. I’m not easily swayed by ridiculous optimism, that’s why I’m at the top. You’ve devoted your blood and tears to a region that will succumb to adversity in your absence. Is that not a pointless feat?”

“So what? That doesn’t mean we just don’t help people. You have nothing without the Fatui, you’re a pawn just like the others” you retort. He brings his lips close to the shell of your ear, and his breath hot on the untouched skin drags a tingle up your spine.

“And what do you know about the Fatui?” he whispers.

“I know enough. You’re all disgusting.” He huffs out his nose.

“Disgusting isn’t the right word. I’d say...opportunists.” Pantalone backs up, sliding his hand up your chin and tilting your attention to the intense glint. “But you’re clever, I’ll give you that. If only you were clever enough to know your place.” You'd forgotten you were acting out of line. You refocus your mindset to negotiation.

“I’ll do anything you ask for the debt. Please, just give it back.” The word “anything” evokes a malicious yearning—so forthcoming without understanding the implications of “anything”, of eternity. He caresses your cheek.

“Anything, hm? Even if I said to give up being a hero for good? Would you still call yourself a heroic traveler if you weren’t allowed to travel or adventure as you please?” he teases. Your mouth opens to refute, but you bite your bottom lip instead. Pantalone walks back to his desk and leans while dangling the golden chain. Now that he’s far, the invading space between you two shows how insignificant you are in this luxury palace.

“Your resolve moves me. Consider this; make an exchange with me, and I’ll guarantee not only her debt, but the debt of all residents in Liyue forgiven” Your face instantly lights up, ready to accept it without thinking.

“What is it?” you ask.

“In exchange for regional loan forgiveness, I want you.”

“...What?”

“I want everything you have. It’s the fairest exchange I can make. Your obedience, your loyalty, and your body.”

The choice turns in your frontal lobe. You can’t fathom giving yourself to a man, let alone a Fatui harbinger. It’s unbecoming of a hero to lie with the enemy.

“Absolutely not” you assure.

“Alright. Then allow their village to be reduced to nothing.” No, wait. “You may leave. However, if you do, you’ll cause great misfortune to that woman and her struggling family” You play into his covet so smoothly as you stand in the center of the room, reluctant to leave.

“I’m not a complete monster, so I’ll give you 5 seconds to make a choice.” He sways the pendant in his hand like the transient time of an hourglass. 5 seconds, all you have to sign your life away.

“4.”

What if no one ever sees you again? What’s the point of sacrificing your happiness and freedom, are the people of Liyue truly worth it?

“3.”

You could threaten him, take him hostage so that a harbinger might bow to your demands. That, or they kill you, and the village suffers anyway.

“2.”

You think of your graying mom, the sweet boy with his chubby red face who cries over the smallest things, the grateful elders that give you candy after every good deed, Ningguang and Keqing stressing over the next financial impact.

“1.”

“I’ll do it.”

Pantalone swings the chain into his palm, an undefeated smug overbearing as he sets it on the desk. There was never a point in resisting; he always got what he wanted, no matter how long it took to achieve it. He waited months—no, years—to get you in this exact moment. There’s a daunting beguiling charm in the way he closes the gap between you two. You glare at him; a temper common people would dread shooting. He assesses the pending punishment and lowers himself eye-level. He grins, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

“I can see the defiance in your eyes. Do you want to talk back? Go ahead, challenge me.” You don’t test this scenario and turn your head. “Don’t patronize me. Get it over with, ‘Pantalone’.”

He quirks an eyebrow, and pliable flesh strains your teeth as your face is gripped rough by satiny leather. You’re twisted sharply to the calm expression—it humbles you.

“That’s not how you address your superior. What should you call me?” You don’t answer promptly to his liking, and he tightens his grip. “Answer me properly, darling.”

“...Sir.” Pantalone plants a sickly sugary kiss on your forehead, the kind that makes you forget how petrifying he can be, and lets you go.

“Good.” He walks back to the desk and sits in the onyx chair embellished with silver jewels fit for a king. His chin rests on bridging hands. “Strip.”

You don’t move, your heart hammers in your chest at the request and you stir uncomfortably. You have no experience with sexual gratification, let alone exposing yourself to an old friend.

“(Y/N). Don’t make me say it again.” Keen agitation in his voice serves as a final warning. He eats you with his eyes, homed in on your hands clumsily snaking the top over your head. A glimpse of the scar you received during your fight with the Fatui captures him. He takes a mental entry, for an explanation that might justify why the agent suddenly goes missing. You were generally too busy to look in the mirror or analyze your assets, and pleasure was a removed afterthought—so the hungry fervor warming your skin and permeating the room clamped your thighs shut. You’re visibly flustered and nervous fumbling with the clasps on your bra while stabilizing your anxiety, and he delights in every second of the accidental strip tease. It feels like fresh meat introduced to a savage animal, and the instant your bra omes off, a new vulnerability coils in your gut. You move to your bottoms; the sheen of sweat polishes your plush thighs to wiggle out of them. You’re left in nothing but tantalizing panties hugging you in the right places. His eyes undress and redress you, tracing up and down the perk of your nipples, tempting fullness of your thighs, each unseen curve and perfect imperfect mark on your glistening body. He lets out a deep breath to stop himself from jumping over the table and taking you right there.

“The underwear. Take it off” he says, an undertone of lust. You shimmy the fabric off and fully expose yourself. You impulsively cover your intimate parts and avert your eyes, but you can still feel Pantalone on you, ravaging you. He doesn’t bother telling you to put your arms at your sides, your bashfulness combined with an attempt at stoicism is comical.

“Ah, the little thief is trying to act tough. That's cute” Pantalone teases and leans back in the chair. Manspreading, he pats his thigh. “Crawl.”

He’s hellbent on shaming the defiance out of you. It’s a vile command, but you begrudgingly drop to your hands and knees. You drag your chaffed knees on wood, balancing like a newborn fawn adjusting to its legs. It’s humiliating and downright degrading; the cold floor fails at cooling your burning fever. You’re on the verge of tears, but Pantalone can’t help but smile. You get around the desk and look up at him, waiting for the next horrible thing he’ll have you do. “Unfortunately, the stunt you pulled impeded my paperwork. Be a good thing and sit on my lap until I’m done.” A “thing”—that’s all you were now, a shiny trophy meant to be ogled at but never taken seriously, used and thrown away. You stand off your scraped raw knees and straddle his thigh, hands balancing the leg so you don’t fall.

And Pantalone starts to work. Working as if you’re not there, filling in the spaces on his documents. For some reason, it’s more demeaning this way, you truly are just a prize. One hand dances beautiful penmanship in masterful motions on embossed paper, the other fondles and explores your being. The gloves brush down your delicate spine, nonsensical shapes drawn on your lower back that make you shiver and pool heat in places you’ve never thought of. You’ve never been touched like this, it’s needles light on your skin. They move to your stomach, pleasant circles above the pelvis that threaten to go lower. He’s careful to trail his hand up your cleavage and behind your neck, neglect your hardening nipples and repeat the process over and over. He’s painstakingly slow, savoring the dazed arch of your back, massaging your inner thighs and dragging the sleek material over your rear.

Middle and index sweep across your lips, pulling your bottom lip to reveal teeth, and prods your mouth. Pantalone’s fingers are invasive, they exploit your gums and twirl around the squishy tongue molding to his appetite. He plays with the pink mass, and it fills you like a kiss. He’s everywhere and he hasn’t looked at you once. You hate it, the kind elegance and refinement of his technique that makes every calculated word and action reek of opulence. Yet, arousal pools on the surface, sticking to your labia and clouding your drowsy mind. It’s an extreme ache that doesn’t go away from cold showers or shrugging off like you usually would. You can’t remember what you did today, yesterday, or the day before that. The sensation of him consumes you and persists in spots he left. He smells of expensive cologne, hints of heady wood and sage. You’re lucky his fingers are in your mouth, or piteous moans would spill out of you. Flat on his thigh, the subtle jolts of his leg rub against your hypersensitive clit and set your nerves on fire. Throbbing swells in your core, and you struggle to stay stiff as your hips stutter.

Pantalone knows exactly what he’s doing. Your labored pants sound like saintly melody while you writhe on his lap. The fabric goads your pulsing pussy, and you hang your head in embarrassment of the juices soaking your thighs and his. He’s surprised you have strength left to withstand the itch. You do your best to hover above it, trailing thick strings of slick. “There’s no need to pretend you don’t like this. Just give yourself to me” he whispers. And it’s so enticing, an invitation that might let you come if you ask. However, remnants of pride cling to your melting resolve, you can’t give in yet. He takes the fingers out and presses on your nipple, flicking the bud. You can’t hold the mewl, and he snickers.

“So indignant for the hero of Liyue, to be on a harbingers lap, reduced to a pretty pet.” Your ears tune out the insults. The damp gloves pull and pinch your puffy nipples, then knead to soothe the pain. He does the same to the other, switching between both as he feels you squirm.

He works on the last few pages. Piles upon piles of reports and records—they detail the deaths, or “suicides”, of clients who’d disappeared mysteriously after extended absence of payments for millions of mora, people who dared go against the Regrator. Unruly, uncooperative clients that take advantage of fair exchange, and pay the price for it.

Your arms get tired, and you settle on him again. Pantalone starts to softly bounce his leg, enough for you to notice the friction on your clit. It’s too much, you can’t take it anymore, and start to rut your hips on his thigh. You look messy, smearing your essence on those overpriced slacks and biting back your moans. Pleasure flows in your veins, and you give up. His cock throbs nonstop, print stealing space in his pants. “Did you believe I wouldn’t catch you? You’re not sneaky enough. You’re not good enough," he taunts from the corner of his eye. You hump his leg like a desperate bunny, chasing the addictive high.

“Nasty slut, fucking your hips on a man you barely remember.” He moves his hands to your clit and replaces the slacks with slippery leather. You grind on it harder and hold your moans. More, more, more. He coats it in the mess and finally diverts his attention to you. He teases your entrance gliding vertically on your vulva before pushing one finger in. It hurts at first, but your walls hug him eagerly, pulling it deeper. He coaxes it to take another and starts scissoring your gushy walls.

“I’ll devour you. I’ll inscribe my name upon every surface of your physique until it adorns your lips, and I’m the only thing that remains.” Pantalone starts pumping rhythmically, tormenting, poking everywhere but your g-spot. Gloss drips down his knuckles and glazes his rings.

“S-sir please, s’too much” you whimper, mustering up an ineffective stable voice. “Hmm? Can you hear the lewd sounds you’re making?” Loud squelches sing from him fucking your insides. Each time you try to speak, he elicits another moan.

“M-my sto-mach hurtss” you whine. He holds your waist in place with the other hand and continues the assault. “I know, it hurts? Would you like me to alleviate the pain?” he coos. You nod fast.

“Hold it in. You ask for permission every time you’re close, do you understand?” You don’t reply and try to angle your body to get more contact. You make the mistake of guiding yourself to your clit and earn a harsh stinging slap on your hand. “Don’t touch what’s mine” he orders. You’re frustrated and he’s doing it on purpose, it’s entirely too hot where pleasure and pain blur. “N-not yours” you stammer, and he stops. He pulls out your warmth and you whine from loss of pressure. Looking at him, there's no smile, and the irritation on his face makes your heart drop. You're really in for it.

Without delay, your stomach flies over one of the chair arms, and you hold onto it for dear life. It presses firm on your ribs, and he slants your ass to the air. “You have courage, speaking back to me” he says. He pulls his gloves off and hurls them. They’re lovely, the silken soft hands of a man who hadn't lifted a finger through combat a day in his life. They sink into your sex, and you moan out for him. The other winds back, and you feel the palm hit brutally on your unsuspecting backside. Crack. It echoes in the room, and you almost fly forward.

“Disrespectful.” Crack. He keeps pumping through it, and tears collect in your lashes.

“Disobedient.” Crack. There’s blood rushing to your head, and violent smacks make your pussy flutter and ass ripple; his control won’t give you adequate touch.

“Little.” Crack. Every time he feels you getting there, he pauses. A masochistic pleasure whirls innermost.

“Brat.” Crack. Both cheeks are a sore fiery color and beginning to welt, but he resumes. You’re drenching his palm, sobbing from prolonged edging and Pantalone laughs. “Pfft, you’re crying? Too embarrassed to beg? Perhaps I’ll give you what you want, if you grovel hard enough, darling.” An incoherent orchestra of please’s mesh with broken moans. “Sir m’sorry. Wan’ it so bad, p-please!” you mumble. There’s no dignity on your lips, no residue of the hero you once were. Drunken ardor floods your short-circuiting brain.

“Oh, what do you say? You want it? Is that it? I'll let you have it... but only if you say it loud and clear for me” he croons. He winds his fingers in a come-hither gesture that licks your core.

“Please...I won’t misbehave again!” He spreads your ass apart and watches your hole pucker from lining the brink.

“I’m not sure I want to give it to you now. It's a lot more enjoyable watching you squirm and beg.”

“’M yours, sir. Please give it to me. I’ll be s’good, promise!” you mewl. You’re so pathetic, it’s endearing. He simpers and maneuvers impossibly fast while gyrating your clit. “How humiliating. You’ve satisfied me.” Your eyes roll back, and you dissolve in pure euphoria. There’s black dots in your vision, and it doesn’t stop as he starts torturing your overstimulated clit with the pad of his thumb. Your tears only encourage him. You jerk and spasm, but he moves where you move with insistent skill. “T-too m-”

“Aww, what’s wrong? Isn’t this what you wanted, where are your manners?” Pantalone pulls out and delivers staggering mean swats to your pussy, and you recoil. “Say thank you” he demands.

“Thank you, sir.” He hums and picks you up in his arms. Before color can return to your numb cells, he lays you on the desk. You watch him pull his shirt up to his pecs with haste and uncover the lean skinny midsection. Unzipping his pants, he unsheathes his leaking thumping erection. Even his dick is pretty, it curves upwards and shades a starving dusty pink past the thin strip of tissue on the underside of his bulbous tip. Composure thinning, a bead of pre come runs down his tip at the sight of provocation sluicing your ass and thighs. His glasses plunge down his neck, body blushed wildly, but he doesn’t care. Pantalone slides between your labia and groans at the sound. Engulfing the tip in awaiting velvet warmth, “You’re so good for me, hm?” he sighs. You embrace him, delicious searing stretch of your walls forming to his cock. Your orgasm builds just from your body accommodating the size. He places your hands on your calves and holds them at your sides. He slips out, and in one swoop, drives into you. His heavy balls smack against your ass as he thrusts frenetically in the gooey grip he’d been waiting for, stalking and spying for. He digs crescent shapes in your waist and uses you to his abundance. The desk base creaks and grinds on abrading wood and obituaries float to the floor with overturned calligraphy ink from the unrelenting momentum. You throw your head back and indulge the carnal lust washing over you both.

“You’ll never see anyone ever again. Fuck- you’re mine, and mine alone. You’re nothing but a come dump, your purpose is to please me, hah, until I say it’s over” his voice is unexpectedly deprived and weighty with vulgar whimpers. Pantalone eyes your neck and encapsulates it in his slender hand. He clenches tight and releases in sporadic bursts that have you seizing around him. For a split second there’s the image of you—exorbitant pearled collar wrapped around your throat, with “Pantalone” inscribed in bedazzled letters—and he loses it. He swipes your clit rapidly and feeds you deep strokes; you’ll definitely die. You speak, but it’s unintelligible rambling.

“Use your words” he lilts, squeezing your airflow taut. “C-can I, sir, please?”

“You’ll do it on my command.” Pantalone thrusts frenetically, you can feel him bucking, twitching and quickly approaching his climax. His hips sputter, chanting some mixture of your name and curses under his breath. “You’re so obedient for me, aren’t you? F-fuck, darling, go ahead. Come on my cock.” You permit yourself to surrender, white noise streams in and time slows as you come down his shaft. A creamy ring forms at the hilt of his slaps. You recite “thank you” through wails with the semblance of a follower at the altar of their savior. Then he grabs your face and goes in for a kiss.

It’s sloppy and misses half your lip, but its doughy attachment mellows your blissed out head. His lips taste like the bitter excess of green tea, and you crane for a better sample. His tongue does things his fingers couldn’t, and swirls around yours in a passionate bruising waltz. Pantalone breaks away, a string of saliva when he frees himself. “Mm, coming. Gonna claim you everywhere” he whimpers. Sweat on his lustered abdomen, he pumps his tender cock before spurting thick hot ropes across your tits and stomach. He paints your vulva with the rest and plunges the tip in your entry so as to not waste the endless globs of white. He tremors inside you until soft, and when some dribbles out he fingers it back inside.

Afterwards, Pantalone opens one of the drawers on the desk and takes out an embossed loan dismissal form. You can’t read the finer details through hazy eyesight. “It’s already signed, so don’t worry. I won’t deceive you.” He caresses your face in his normal sing-song attitude. “We depart in the morning.” You don’t have a clue where you’re going or how you’ll get there as you drift unconscious. Once you’re asleep, Pantalone shuffles in a different locked drawer. He twiddles the stunning purple geode in his hand, a crystal lined mineral you gave to him years prior. He looks at you, then the druse, and cackles.

“Mine. Always.”

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